


Bulletproof or Hollowpoint

by DisenchantedHalo (Morgawse), Morgawse



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Past Abuse, Swearing, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-06-20 18:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15540600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/DisenchantedHalo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/Morgawse
Summary: Frank’s got a very short fuse and a high sex drive.  Gerard has very little self-esteem but has enough to know staying with Frank is a bad idea seeing as the last time they were together they both ended up in the ER.  Can Gerard man up and stop being a doormat? Can a leopard (Frank) ever change its spots like he promises Gerard?At the same time, Alex has a crush on Frank, but still loves his boyfriend Jack.  Mikey wants Pete but knows that’s not a good thing even after Patrick threw Pete out, besides Mikey isn’t sure if he is gay. The only things he is sure of right now are his anxiety attacks and that he wants Frank out of his brother’s life for good. Then there’s the question everyone wants to know the answer to, what’s up with Brendon & Ryan’s relationship – is Ryan naïve or is he in on Brendon’s apparently cheating ways?I haven’t got a clue where this goes, but it should be fun. Care to join me and find out?





	1. Prologue - Looking out from Desolation Row

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The More You Suffer, The More It Shows You Really Care](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668687) by [Morgawse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/Morgawse). 



> This is a bit of an exploration of a bunch of characters that appeared in the first one-shot of my series the Bitter the The Sweet. You don't have to have read "The More You Suffer" to get this story, it stands in its own right after Chapter 1 - hence the prologue for those of you who haven't read the one-shot or have read it and, as that was several months ago, have forgotten the whole thing.
> 
> I will add tags and characters as I introduce them into the story (i.e. Ryden, Jalex etc.) what you have is for the Prologue and Chapter 1. I hope to have Chapter 1 up in a couple of days.
> 
> Hopefully I got any typos or errors. If not apologies.

Mikey looked back at the events of the last three months. Things had been building to this point for a few years, but it was those three weeks from the gig at Maxwell’s to the night that he and Pete had had to get both Mikey’s brother Gerard and Gerard’s boyfriend Frank to the ER that had changed everything. Those weeks had signalled the end of Mikey’s attempts at convincing himself he was not bisexual. Alicia had thrown him out, partly because she couldn’t cope with panic attacks, but the real reason Mikey had to acknowledge was that she was jealous of Pete and the way that Mikey wanted to spend time with Pete rather than her. That young band Frank had introduced into the group at the Maxwell’s afterparty had turned out to be one step too far for Patrick, finally calling time on his relationship with Pete, as Pete had become slightly obsessed with chasing after Rian. Somehow that meant that the whole band, All Time Low, had now become a regular part of their extended group of friends. Pete’s need to play around was one of the reasons why he hadn’t made any move of his own on Pete, preferring the agony of unrequited desire than dealing with a serial cheater. He had seen what it did to Patrick and Gerard. The only one that seemed unphased by a boyfriend that played around from time to time was Ryan. It was not as if Brendon was particularly discrete. There was apparently something else going on between the two of them that no-one else saw. Maybe he needed to learn Ryan’s secret?

Mikey deliberately shifted his thoughts away from Pete, turning to the possibility that he had probably overstayed his welcome at his brother’s apartment. His back thought so. He ought to scrape together some money for a chiropractor to sort out three months of sleeping on Gerard’s couch, which was too short for his long legs. Brotherly love commanded that he had stayed there so long. It was not right for Gerard to be on his own with a broken wrist and a couple of broken ribs after Frank’s last attack on him. In a slightly twisted way, he was impressed with his brother’s refusal to admit to the authorities that Frank was his attacker. There was a real strength to the way he did it. Not at first. The weak, submissive Gerard with little self-esteem was the one that got his injuries attended to, but when the authorities kept on pressing, a resolute Gerard insisted that he would not divulge because he had no wish to press charges. He had had not let on that he knew Frank, even when he heard staff talking to Mr Iero in the next cubicle. However, Gerard’s physical injuries were mostly healed, or at least now at a place where he could easily care for himself. Mikey needed to find a new place to live. 

Mikey’s only regret was that by not being around so much he could be placing his brother back into Frank’s clutches, or worse. There were days when he saw Frank’s smug face around the town or out with their friends that he wished either that Frank had accidentally taken more of Gerard’s Valium that night and died – but of course, the motherfucker had passed out in his own vomit from drink before he could do that. Mikey’s other wish was that, although there was no way he would ever disrespect his older brother’s wishes, he had called the police on Frank rather than being complicit in getting Frank into Pete’s car and on his way to the hospital before calling the EMT’s for Gerard. Mikey was grateful to Pete in ways he could never verbalise that Pete had been with him that night and initially kept Frank’s presence secret until he found him lying in the bathroom. He was also grateful that Pete suggested getting Frank out of the apartment and taking him to get attention on his own, leaving Mikey to care for his brother. Mikey shuddered at the thought of what he might have done to Frank if he had been on his own when he found Gerard and Frank. He might in his angriest moments want the abusive little shit dead, but not at his hands. Frank was not worth throwing his life away.

None of this had done his anxiety any good, without adding in the Bert debacle. He had already been questioning the effectiveness of what his doctor had prescribed before all of this kicked off. Now he was sure of it. Demonstrably so, as now here he sat in a hospital bed having taken his pills yet still had so massive aa anxiety attack that he had collapsed at work. Even the one co-worker who knew how to help ground him had not been able to pull him back from the brink. His brother would have done, but Gee was at work himself. Perhaps this episode would finally convince his doctor to try something else. At this point, he would even give that cognitive behavioural thing a try alongside the meds, anything to be able to function without that sick, swimming feeling, the pounding of his heart, and the sweating. And here it came again as the machine he was hooked up to started to beep.


	2. Chapter 1 – Sitting here with you in misery; Anybody gonna come and rescue me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Gerard muses about why he suddenly feels protective of Frank and how he'll get painkillers with his past addictions on file, Frank realises what he did to Gerard, and Pete wonders why he went above and beyond for Mikey, Frank and Gerard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies, so I ended up having to take emergency medication for a reaction I had to something (still not sure what) and ended up with as bad a reaction to the medication, so no weekend update. Sorry!
> 
> Here's Chapter 1 - I hope I got all the typos and errors, if not apologies.

“Mr Way, do you have anyone that can help you at home?” The nurse was looking at him like he was a simpleton. Was he sensitive, not big in self-esteem – yes. Was he moronic – no.

“My brother, Mikey, came with me in the ambulance.” He knew it did not answer the question but fuck it, she was beginning to annoy him. Mikey was his only hope. He did not want to ask his parents, the idea of his mum fussing and his dad, who was with Mikey in the anti-Frank league, demanding to know how it happened was too much to stomach. Honestly, the person he wanted to take care of him was Frank. Yeah – like that was going to happen! Gerard hoped that the nurse would get the hint to go and find Mikey from his response, leaving him to listen in to what was being said next door to Frank. But she did not. Instead, she repeated the question. This time enunciating each word clearly and slowly, her tone matching her patronising look.

“Mikey. Mikey is the only possibility, but I don’t know where he is. They didn’t allow him to come in here with me.” Despite sounding crestfallen as he said that, because he would have liked his brother’s company, he knew it was a smart move on the hospital’s part. Gerard doubted Mikey would have been able to keep up the pretence of not knowing ‘Mr Iero’ if he had found out Gerard and Frank were being treated side by side. Then all hell would have broken loose.

This time the Nurse got the hint. “Ok, I’ll go see if he is in the waiting room. I want him to be here when we give you your care instructions before we discharge you.” 

Gerard breathed a sigh of relief. Well, he would have liked to, but the pain in his ribs meant moving was excruciating. They were not going to keep him in for observation. Ugh, he hated hospitals. His only concern was whether they knew anything about his history. He had never been admitted to this hospital before, but since all records were now electronic, the chances were slim that there was no record of his past drug usage. The Valium Frank had taken was from his usual source. He had not had anything stronger than anti-biotics through his doctor for many years now. He no longer used, but he kept a small supply for when everything just became too much, and he needed a little escape. Gerard could not imagine, if his details were on file, the hospital giving him much in the way of strong painkillers. Mikey would not agree to go to Bert, so how was he going to get his hands on something strong enough to deal with the pain of broken ribs and wrist?

A raised voice was heard from the other side of the curtain. A voice that was both groggy and hoarse, but an irate one. Frank was arguing with the need to be kept under observation. Not an unexpected decision when someone has been brought in unconscious from a mix of drink and drugs. Surely, they recognised that Frank would not have been attempting suicide? The idea was ludicrous. Only weaklings like him, Gerard Way, would ever have those types of thoughts. Bizarrely what the ongoing discussion, if you could call Frank’s loud, incoherent babbling in response to the doctor’s pronouncement an argument, produced in Gerard was a desire to protect Frank. In the months he had spent with Frank, Gerard had never felt that way. He had never had cause to feel protective; Frank was always so self-assured, so steely. Gerard doubted that he would be up to the job anyway, yet he allowed himself to sit with the novel feeling. This could get interesting if the argument were continuing when the nurse came back with Mikey.

“Mr Way, perhaps you can talk some sense into your brother. I understand you found him. You must have some idea who did this to him?”

Mikey choked back the response he wanted to give. Every fibre in his body was screaming “find that asshole Iero, he is the one that beat Gee senseless and it is not the first time that he has hit him”. But if Gerard wanted to take action against Frank, he would have said something himself. Instead, Mikey offered a barely believable reply.

“I am only staying with my brother for a couple of days. I have no idea about any friends or boyfriends he has that might be capable of this type of assault. He’s also stubborn as a mule, so once he’s made his mind up, there’s no changing it.”

Mikey was glad he was not Pinocchio right now, or his nose would have been growing fast. How someone looking so forlorn and pathetic as Gerard did could be believed to be that intractable flummoxed Mikey. What he did know, however, was that the tale of that night was not his to tell. He had to shut down that line of enquiry.

The doctor began explaining how long it would take for Gerard to heal, when they would assess whether his wrist needed anything other than physical therapy, and how to help him manage the pain given Gerard’s history of drug abuse. Then, Gerard signed his discharge papers, and they were able to leave the hospital. Mikey was not sure he had heard correctly before they left the treatment area, but he could have sworn he had heard mention of psychiatric assessments and Mr Iero in the same sentence. The thought of that made him smirk.

*Frank’s PoV*  
Frank was disorientated. He was surrounded by bright lights, lying on a metal framed bed, hooked up to an IV and some breathing apparatus. He had no idea where he was or how he came to be there. The last thing he remembered was being in Gerard’s bathroom. He had been rifling through the bathroom cabinet, convinced he would find something to chill him out a bit. Frank remembered being three sheets to the wind before …FUCK! Oh my god, Gerard! That was why he had needed to calm down. His head, which was already pounding, now began to swim. The awful scenes of what had happened started to replay in his mind.

“Get a grip, Frank,” he chided himself. Frank took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself as he ripped the oxygen mask off his face. Rather than replay what he had done, he needed to gather his wits together. Surveying his surroundings, Frank guessed he was in the ER. How had he ended up here? It could not have been Gerard. Who then? Who else knew what he was responsible for doing? Had they alerted the authorities? What had happened to Gerard in all of this - please God let him be alive. Frank knew he had not checked. All he knew was that he had punched him, Gerard had crashed to the floor at an odd angle, grazing the coffee table on the way down, and that Frank had kicked him when he was on the floor until Gerard stopped trying to protect himself. Frank had been disturbed at his actions when Gerard became motionless, that was why he had drunk more booze and searched for a calming pill instead of calling for an ambulance as he should have done.

Frank was not getting a grip. The more he remembered and began to realise the potential implications, the more he felt things he had not in a long time – vulnerable, anxious and out of control. The one good sign that he could see so far was that there was no evidence of a cop presence or any handcuffs restraining him to the bed.

“Ah, Mr Iero, welcome back.”

Frank glowered at the nurse. He was in no mood for sick bedside humour. He was having a tough enough time pulling his thoughts and feelings together, dealing with misplaced humour was not within his capacity right now.

“Perhaps you can tell us exactly what you drank tonight, what drugs you took and how many.”

Frank shook his head. Most of those details were long driven out of his memory banks by the frightening images of him beating Gerard as that little demon inside him took control of his fists and feet.

“Ok, so what can you tell us? Your flatmate, Mr Wentz said he found you in the bathroom, that there were beer and liquor bottles strewn across the kitchen, and that he managed to help you to his car before you passed out.”

Frank was puzzled. Pete was not his flatmate or Gerard’s. How had Pete found him? For the life of him, he could not recall being in Pete’s car.

“Mr Iero, if you can’t help us, we will have no choice but to keep you in for observation.” 

No way, not happening! Frank hated hospitals. All they did was remind him of how sickly he had been as a child. They smelled of weakness, decay and death. None of it was appealing when you came face to face with it. That was when the incoherent arguments began. The nurse, and then the doctor, tried to explain that they needed to ensure the effects of both drink and drugs were out of Frank’s system before they could let him go. They also tried to make clear that given the lack of information they also had to make a judgement about Frank’s current mental state.

Finally, the wheels came off Frank’s self-control. Angry, red mist demon was in charge. “I am not fucking suicidal. I don’t need your fucking observation or mental health assessments. I am a fucking grown man who can make his own goddamn fucking decisions about what to put in my body. Just let me the fuck out of here, motherfuckers.” Frank was trying to get himself out of bed, clawing at the cannula in his arm. In his head, Frank was ready to attack anybody in his path that stopped him. Sadly, for Frank, not only would his body not cooperate, it had been through too much that night emotionally and physically, but his outburst and actions made the decision for the ER staff that he needed to be kept in and his mental state formally assessed.

 

*Pete’s PoV*  
Pete sat in his car in the hospital car park. He had been sitting there for over an hour, staring out the windscreen at nothing in particular. How the fuck had he become embroiled in this mess. It had shades of farce or a far-fetched sit-com. The web of lies he and Mikey had concocted to protect Frank and Gerard. The risk he, Pete, had taken in moving an unconscious Frank.

“What now?” Pete knew there was no-one to answer him. “What do I do? I can’t go back home, Patrick won’t let me back in seeing as he already told me not to come back tonight. I can’t go back in and ask Mikey if I can stay at Gerard’s, I’m not supposed to know him! I can’t even text him, I doubt he’d pick up right now, and anyways there isn’t enough room for all of us in a one-bed apartment. I can't see anyone else answering at this time of night either. Is a motel truly my only option other than the car?”

Pete did not care if anyone was watching him talk to himself. Speaking his thoughts out loud helped Pete process them. Strangely it also stopped him feeling like he was alone in the chaos. The whole thing had him unsettled. Pete had always thought of himself as a good friend. Yeah, a Bi-Polar asshole that liked to flirt and muck around with other men even though he had a partner; but, when push came to shove, he would always be there for his friends. However, what he had just done for Frank, Gerard, and Mikey was above and beyond. It pushed even his limits for the love of the adrenaline rush. If only he could feel that rush properly not have the emotions pushed down by the drugs. He could manage his moods without them, couldn't he? He could stay in control unmedicated. The mania didn't faze him; it was that he craved to experience entirely again. Whatever. It would be worth it to feel emotions to their fullest once more. He did, however, want to help Frank see that perhaps he needed to seek help in managing his anger.

“Ok, motel it is.” He uttered dragging himself back to his current predicament as he unlocked his phone to check where the nearest motel was that did not look like he would be murdered in his bed if he stayed there. That would be the perfect end to an epic failure of a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Frank realises what he did - is he also starting to realise what Gerard really means to him? Hmm, who knows?
> 
> I have another multi-chpater fic which I am working on as well, so I intend to post the first chapter for that later on this week, and chapter 2 of this next week. Hopefully from there I will continue to update these two in rotation, so you get a new chapter every other week - at least that's the plan.
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter - just note smut is really challenging for me, but don't let that stop you requesting it.


	3. Chapter 2 – I’d photocopy all the things that we could be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Brendon tries it on with Jack, All Time Low prepre for their first show, and Frank and Gee discuss their future (or lack of) in a diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies, here's another instalment with a couple of additions to the main characters for this story - yes, its time for a little Jalex and a hint at Ryden!
> 
> I am dedicating this chapter to Domebedward. They were so supportive throughout my first series, and encouraged me to write Broken Hearts Parade, which turned out to be my favourite of the whole Sweet then Sour series - even though I had not originally intended to write it. They were also the person that said they would like to see more of the reprobates from The More You Suffer - so without their kind words and positive response to my suggestion, there may not have been this continuation story!
> 
> I hope I got all the typos and errors, if not apologies.

*One month later – Maxwell’s, Brendon’s PoV*  
“Wow, er, thanks – I think. You do know I’ve got a boyfriend?”

“Yeah. So have I. Ryan and I have this understanding. We’ve been together so long now that we have to do a few things to keep things interesting.” Flirting and stretching the truth. Two of Brendon’s talents. The compliments and lies tripped off his tongue without a second thought. Brendon ensured that there was a kernel of truth buried in there somewhere. Adding a grain of truth here and there was how he sounded convincing. 

He had considered going after Alex. Alex was more Brendon’s type. However, Frank got there first. Seducing Alex’s boyfriend, Jack, was therefore infinitely more appealing. The bonus was that Jack was good looking enough to meet Brendon’s exacting standards for his conquests.

“It’s just that – well, Alex and I have a more closed relationship. He expects me to stay faithful.” Fascinating that Jack felt the need to defend his position.

“Ever asked?” Brendon found it amusing to prod Jack as a cat plays with a mouse before eating it. Brendon knew Alex would be a hypocrite if he condemned Jack for playing around with Brendon. Alex had already been unfaithful.

“Ughh! Why would I do that?”

“Spice things up. Add flavour?” Jack’s resistance was beguiling to Brendon. When his targets put up a fight, the victory was immeasurably sweeter.

“We have all the flavour we need, thank you!” Jack’s voice was lacking the confidence that you might have expected from his words. 

Oh, yes, Brendon thought. There is a chink in his armour. A crack that Brendon was eager to exploit. What angle though? Maybe he ought not to push any further tonight. “Alright, if you’re sure about that. The offer’s always open if you change your mind.” And by the time Brendon had finished toying with him, Jack would change his mind. Brendon was convinced of it. He had never failed before.

Jack, left speechless by Brendon’s assuredness, watched as Brendon sauntered back to Ryan and his other friends. He shook his head, clearing it from the exchange with Brendon, before turning his attention to the proposed set list he was supposed to be agreeing.

*Five minutes later - Alex’s PoV*  
“For fuck’s sake, Jack. What are you doing out here still?”

“Calm it, Alex. There’s plenty of time yet.”

Jack had a point. There was an hour left until they were on stage. Their half of a song soundcheck had gone ok earlier, despite the ongoing arguments about which four of their eight songs they were going to play. Alex understood that everyone had their way of preparing, but as this was their first real show, he was clueless about the other three’s pre-performance quirks. When he took a moment to think about it, his anxiety meant that he needed to be places early, to be ready long before he needed to be. Jack was different. Jack was more of a just in time guy.

“Point taken. Just be backstage with enough time to make the final set selection.”

“It’s in hand.” Jack’s voice was calm and assertive. Alex reckoned that Jack was attempting to stop him from having an attack. Alex did feel on the verge of one; he was surprised how on edge doing the one thing he knew he was born to do was making him.

“Hmmmmm. I believe you…I guess?”

Before he made his way backstage, Alex scanned the bar. No-one would say what had happened to Frank, even though he had asked Bob, Ray, and Pete separately. It was odd, given how tight-knit a crew they had all seemed to be when he first met them. Secretly Alex hoped that tonight Frank, the man who had put all of this in motion, would be there to see the set. But so far Alex could not see him.

Immediately Alex reached the backstage area Rian and Zack jumped on him.

“D’you find him?” 

“Yeah, he’s sitting at the bar still chewing over songs.”

“Selfish bastard,” Rian blurted out. “If we fuck this up because he pulls one of his last-minute stunts like he does at practice…”

“Then we blame Jack, and chuck him out of the band,” Zack joked.

Alex and Rian laughed, easing the tension and mounting nerves.

“Piece of cake for you two!” Alex continued to play along with Zack’s mock suggestion. “I’d either have to dump him or put up with him moping around and bitching that it wasn’t fair!”

“Serves you right for fucking your band mate!” Rian ruffled Alex’s hair.

“Oi, I’d got that to the perfect just messed up look!”

“See, that’s why you are ideal together – DIVAS the pair of you!”

Alex hmphed at Zack’s insinuation. “I’m going to warm up.”

*The same time at a local diner – Frank’s PoV*  
Over the other side of town, Frank and Gee sat across from each other in a booth at the back of the diner. The air between the two men was thick with unspoken words as they talked of inconsequential niceties. This was the first time that the two had been in the same room since the night of the ER incident. Frank was at a loss for what to say. Well, to say something meaningful. Frank foundered every time he tried to say anything deeper than ‘sorry’, and there was no way in hell that sorry either conveyed the remorse that he felt for what he had done nor that creeping feeling that Gerard was more than just another plaything to manipulate. The extent of Gerard’s injuries was still visible. There was strapping on his wrist, and he moved gingerly trying to avoid pain from his ribs. There had always been a haunting sadness in Gerard’s eyes. Now those same eyes told of a soul so broken that it believed more fervently than ever that its owner was worthless.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be watching the band tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Frank sounded dejected. “It’s not as if I discovered them. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time with the right connections.” For an appropriate fee, which he had duly extracted from Alex. Frank was persuaded that meeting Alex was pivotal in this mess. How was irrelevant; however, the intuition remained unchanged. From that day, Frank had been unsettled. His grip on the anger demon looser. The susceptibility to second-guessing his actions and his motives had started that night. The odd feelings caused a conflict in Frank’s behaviour until it had landed both him and Gerard in the hospital because Frank no longer knew what his emotions were telling him. Anger and talking with his fists. Those came as second nature to him. When you grew up in the rough part of the harshest county in New Jersey, you learned to act tough or you found yourself another crime statistic. The warm fuzzy stuff like care and concern for another person’s physical and emotional well-being were alien concepts to Frank. Do not even mention the ‘L’ word!

“Still, everyone else is there too.” Gerard paused. His face gave away the fact that he was unsure whether to voice the next thought that had occurred to him. His shoulders raised a couple of inches as he sucked in some air, then declared, “I get the feeling Alex will miss you being there.”

“Why would he?”

“I saw the way he looked at you that first night. Also, Bob said he was asking about you when the guys all went out a couple of weeks ago and you weren’t there.”

“Huh? Bob didn’t tell me that! You’d think he’d tell me if he’s busy telling everyone else.” So, there he was again, Alex, at the centre of things. All Frank knew about the kid was that he was in a band and could suck dick pretty good. Bizarre!

Time to shift the conversation. He had asked Gerard here for a reason. He needed to man up and get to the point, or there would be a metaphoric elephant permanently stuck in the back corner of the diner. Bad karma, if you believed in that sort of thing, for everyone who came in after them, and he was not going to be responsible for that. He had enough bad karma for several lifetimes already. He hoped he had this ‘there is nothing more after death’ thing pegged right because if there was a hell or reincarnation, he doubted either would be much fun for him. Suck it up, boy. Get on with it!

“Gee – I…this isn’t easy…I fucked up so massively. I know that. I’m not proud of my behaviour…”

“I don’t blame you, Frank.”

Frank’s heart lurched. Inside that seemingly impenetrable armour, a minuscule amount of empathy and compassion existed. Who the hell else was to blame? Gerard had not beaten himself up! Frank had assaulted him, so he WAS to blame. He had no desire to be crucified, but he could not let this pass.

“Really? After I hurt you that badly?”

“Yes. You have issues, Frank. I have them too. Blaming each other won’t solve things.” Frank was surprised that instead of hanging his head, Gerard was looking at him, holding his gaze. Despite the tortured look, there was a conviction to Gerard that Frank could not remember ever seeing. Gerard’s tone displayed his hurt, yet that too carried a certainty that looking back at what had happened was a pointless exercise.

“So, Frank, where do we go from here? Why did you want to meet? I know I am nothing more than your broken little fucktoy. Surely you’ve got everything you need from me now?”

“That’s not…” Frank choked on his words. Lying was not an option. At the beginning of their relationship that had been exactly how he had viewed an insecure, compliant Gerard. Now it was different. No words would form to explain how he felt. He was uncertain how to describe the emotions that would swirl around him when he thought of Gerard.

“That’s not what? True? Please, Frank, I’ve been here before. I know all about the empty promises of changing. I know all about the continued abuse and manipulation. Leopards and spots. I may be a miserable excuse for a human being, but I do have a shred of self-preservation left.”

Frank always, and he meant always, got what he wanted. Defeat was not in his vocabulary. Letting Gerard walk away now was unthinkable. Frank’s problem was his usual methods involved manipulation. Look, Frank, he reminded himself, you can be a good guy when you want to be. There was even clinical proof to say that he was not a sociopath or a psychopath – he already knew that I mean come on he had a temper, but he was no serial killer. His therapist had pronounced that Frank was the guy who hid his true self behind anger and a tough-guy image because of the events of his childhood – yawn, such a cliché. Whatever the reason, Frank had certain personality traits that society deemed undesirable, but he could learn how to manage them, or so his therapist claimed. It was just that accessing that vulnerable part was so damn uncomfortable. So, Frankie, what’s the plan of attack here? You want to give this a shot at being something more than just fucking. That was after all where his head had been at right at the time he met Alex. Again, with Alex – for Pete’s sake Frank, stop fixating on the kid. 

Frank slid his hand across the table. He was hoping Gerard would allow Frank to touch him, gently, tenderly with no hint of threat or control. Instead, Gerard withdrew his hand.

“I mean it, Frank. I am not strong enough. Please don’t toy with me.”

“I’m sorry Gee. I didn’t mean to spook you. I…. Oh, you know what, I…” The switch was about to flip because here was Gerard standing up to him. Gerard was forlorn but quietly determined to stand his ground. This unexpected strength was intriguing. It only bolstered Frank’s resolve that he needed to make a breakthrough to see what a relationship with Gerard could really become. So, no cussing him out or swearing at him. Stop, breathe, let the moment pass, then talk to him calmly again. That’s no doubt what his therapist would recommend – so trite sounding, but maybe it would work. It had to because Frank knew exactly where letting the demon have its way would take things. 

“Look, I totally get if you want to walk away and never come back, Gerard. But, I truly want to find out what we could become.” Was open, honest, emotional communication always this painful? This was going to be harder than Frank had anticipated. The demon raised its horned head again – this better be worth all the effort Frankie boy! “I can’t promise you anything. I would be lying if I said I knew I would never lose control again.” Now for the real confession piece – nobody else knew that on being released from the hospital, Frank had consented to behavioural therapy sessions. “I am working with someone on anger management. I don’t know whether it will work or not but after what I did to you, I have to try something. Would you be willing to give us another shot? You have become more than someone to help me get off, some candy on my arm. I’m too emotionally stunted to know what you are, but I’m up for exploring that. Can you find it in you to start again?”

Inwardly Frank was hoping Gerard would give him an unequivocal “yes”. The realist in him knew that even if Gerard did say yes, doubts, reservations and caveats would abound. Still…

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Gerard faltered, before adding, “I think I’d better be going now.” 

Frank tried, unsuccessfully, to read the emotions he saw form on Gerard’s face. Too many seemed to gather there at the same time. Frank knew he had scared him as Gerard put such an abrupt stop to their meeting. Had he messed things up further by being so honest?

“At least say you’ll think about it.”

“Ok. Bye, Frank.”

Frank would take that. He hadn’t said “no”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all held back on wanting to slap Frank this chapter, he is trying! However, could he really have expected any other response? Also who cheered that Gerard stood up to him and walked out, even if it was in a low key style? What happens next, eh? Well, it's only chapter 2, so the Frerard has a long way to go yet and more of the other characters too! Stay tuned for the next chapter, hopefully week after next.
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with the people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter - just note smut is really challenging for me, but don't let that stop you requesting it.


	4. Chapter 3 - Just a sad song with nothin’ to say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pete could see Mikey trying to bite back a response. Pete knew that it would be something along the lines of, you deserved it, it’s your own fault, serves you right. Mikey would be correct too."
> 
> The chapter in which Gerard ponders whether he could ever trust Frank (while bitching about havingto work on a Saturday); and Mikey flirts with the cute barista before Pete crashes the Saturday morning panic attack and confesses about his medication and why Patrick finally gave up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter really, but it does move one area of the plot along quite a bit at the end. I hope you still like it though.
> 
> I think I got all the typos and other errors, if not apologies.
> 
> Just a quick word, I am travelling again over the next two weeks, hopefully that won't disrupt my update schedule on this or Crucifies my Enemies, but you know what they say about best laid plans and all that. :)

*Gerard’s apartment – Gerard’s PoV*  
Gerard was leaning on the kitchen counter, holding a steaming mug of coffee in his good hand. Mikey was still in the shower. Gerard was glad of the space. It gave him time to mull over last night’s conversation with Frank. Six weeks ago, he would have jumped at the chance to find out what his relationship with Frank could be. He remembered how acutely he had wished that it was Frank who would take care of him when he left the hospital, not Mikey. But when he thought about saying yes to Frank’s proposition, he had to pause. Gerard knew abusive relationships intimately. As he had told Frank, he had been there before. Bert was charming when he wanted to be. However, if he was using or pissed, then he would lash out. Gerard had always suffered from low self-esteem, and openly acknowledged his lack of self-belief. No-one had been able to explain to him, in any way that made sense to him, why that was the case. He had tried a few things that people had suggested would make it better. Talking to someone helped in the moment, but it only quieted the voices in his head for a brief time. He had tried using his art as therapy to process how he felt. All that had accomplished was reinforcing the belief that he was a useless human being. Yes, there was also the escape route he had tried of drink and drugs. That had worked spectacularly well, not at improving his self-worth, but his ability to endure abuse at the hands of another man. Bert had taken advantage of Gerard’s non-existent self-worth as he helped Gerard fall down the rabbit hole of addiction. Now that Gerard knew the full extent of Frank’s temper, he could see that it rivalled Bert’s. Therefore, Gerard did not trust Frank. He was not entirely convinced he trusted himself either. 

“Hey Bro, where’s my coffee?” Mikey wandered into the kitchen, one towel wrapped around his waist, another in hand drying his hair.

Snapping back to reality, Gerard gestured at the coffee maker. “In the pot!”

“Ha, funny. Thought you might at least have poured me a cup.”

“Oh no, brother dearest, why would I want to miss the fun of watching you burn your mouth on that first scalding gulp,” Gerard smirked. Then his face became serious again. “Besides, I thought you were supposed to be cutting back on stimulants. You know, see if that helps the panic attacks?”

Mikey scowled. “Cut back, not cut out!”

“Hmm.”

Mikey grabbed a mug from one of the kitchen cabinets, then poured himself a coffee. “You want a lift into work?”

“Shit! Yeah please, Mikes.” Gerard had forgotten that he had “volunteered” to go in on a Saturday to catch up with his backlog. He had had to take time off immediately after being beaten up. The firm had been accommodating and had paid him for the time off, even when they contractually did not have to. However, his co-workers had only covered the most urgent of his responsibilities, so there was a pile of crap that needed attention. With quarter-end coming up if he remained behind in his reporting, the situation would only get worse. Gerard doubted that his boss, the Ice Queen, would continue to be so understanding when his incomplete work affected her quarterly figures.

“Ok, be ready in 5, actually, make that be ready in 10.”

“See you in 15, Mikes. You know it takes you 10 just to style your hair!” 

Mikey left to get dressed, taking his coffee with him. Gerard looked longingly at the coffee still in the pot.

“Yeah, there’s time for one more.” He stopped pouring with only half the mug full. Did he leave enough for Mikey to grab another? Could he drink it quickly enough? Should he cool it down with some cold water? Screw Mikey. He loved his brother, but he needed caffeine to get through working on a Saturday, and Mikey really should be following the advice to cut back on coffee. He could help Mikey with that by not leaving temptation in his path. Gerard chuckled to himself at his own ludicrous reasoning for being selfish with the coffee. Everything he needed for work was already by the door, so he could take his time while his brother readied himself. 

Maybe though he would leave the ruminations over Frank right now. Mikey continued to poke around in Gerard’s business when it came to Frank, putting his opinions forward on a regular basis. They had rowed over Gerard’s refusal to even admit to anyone other than the four people involved that Frank was behind his injuries. If Mikey knew what had transpired the previous evening, he would only say - forget Frank, move on. “Easier said than done, Mikey, easier said than done” Gerard whispered towards the bathroom.

As predicted it was nearer to fifteen minutes later when Mikey appeared back in the kitchen car keys in hand. “Ready?”

“Yup, let’s go. So, what you up to while I slave away over boring reconciliation reports?”

“No clue! Since when do I plan shit?” With that, they headed out the door to Mikey’s car.

*Mikey’s POV*  
Once he had dropped Gee off at the office, Mikey’s first port of call was the coffee shop seeing as Gerard had deprived him of the adequate levels of caffeine which were necessary for Mikey to function like a normal human being. 

“Large black Americano with an extra shot – right?”

“Wow, you’re good. Do you know all your customer’s orders?”

The girl behind the counter blushed, as she looked up at Mikey from underneath her bangs. “No, only the cute guys that come in at least two-three times a day.”

“Crap, I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried about my coffee habit.” She was pretty cute herself, Mikey noted.

“Oh, and there I was thinking that you kept coming in here to see me.”

Mikey noticed the blush deepening on her cheeks, as he felt a matching one creep over his. Quickly he pulled his card out of his wallet and tapped it on the screen to pay. “Er, maybe see you Monday,” he squeaked, hurrying to the other end of the counter to collect his coffee before finding a seat out of the barista’s view.

Mikey considered the irony as he swallowed his anti-anxiety meds with a swig of adrenaline-inducing coffee. One drug to keep him alert and focused essentially countering the calming effect of the other. He decided to lose himself in a game for a while, and not think about how uncomfortable flirting with the blonde-haired girl behind the counter had made him. Hey, at least he had not panicked yet!

Text Message: You free?

It was the sender of the message that was intriguing. It was from Pete. Pete had been ignoring Mikey over the last few weeks. The whole Frank and Gerard incident seemed to have shaken Pete quite severely on top of the continuing disintegration of his relationship with Patrick.

Text to Pete: Yep, in the coffee shop on the corner of 3rd and Washington.

Text from Pete: Company?

Text to Pete: No. I’m the nerdy friend, remember?

Text from Pete: Funny! I’ll be there in 10.

What did Pete want? Why now? Mikey was confused. He was still processing the split from Alicia. The jealousy around Pete had been valid, but the not coping with his anxiety was shitty behaviour, that was what irked him. He too was shaken up by the Frank and Gerard situation. Why was had his brother even consented to see Frank? Not giving the bastard up to the cops was one thing but why keep Frank in his life? It was Bert all over again. On the one hand, he got why Pete might be disturbed after the risks they had taken, but why separate himself from Mikey, only talking when they were all together as a group? Was that some last-ditch attempt to keep Patrick onside? Then what did he want to do about the cutie who had served him? Did he have the balls to try to get a date? Did he even want to … oh shit – now? Really? He started to rock, his palms sweaty, his eyes glazing over – count Mikey – count. Think about something else…No Mikey, not that – FFS – something calming. Ahh – yes, music. 

“I know…I…had…some headphones…in here…”

“You ok, dude?”

“I…yeah…just need…”

“To breathe.” The stranger sat in the chair opposite Mikey, holding his gaze, working with him to get some control back. “I’ll get you some water.”

As the guy walked up to the counter to get the water, Mikey caught sight of the scrubs and white sneakers. It made sense now, why the guy had come to his aid. 

“Is this a regular thing?” The guy questioned Mikey about the attacks, while Mikey sipped the cool liquid.

Mikey wanted to tell him to butt out, but thought better of it, explaining that he suffered from anxiety; he even blurted out, like the dumbass that he was, that he was on prescription medication for it.

“Probably ought to lay off the strong coffee then.”

As Mikey opened his mouth to respond, he heard Pete’s raucous tones.

“Hey sugar, thought you said you were alone? Who’s this handsome…”

“Pete! Er, don’t mind my friend, he’s always this loud and obnoxious. You get used to it. Seriously though, thanks for helping me out. Appreciate it.”

Once the stranger had left, Pete scooched into the seat opposite Mikey. Now that he had a clear view of Pete’s face, Mikey could see that it was puffy, red and blotchy. Pete crying, surely not?

“So, Pete, what’s up? You look, uh, dreadful.”

*Pete’s PoV*  
Pete looked away from Mikey. This was a terrible idea. What did he expect Mikey to do or say? What good was sympathy, or even empathy, it was his own goddamn fault!

Mikey was watching him expectantly. Pete knew he could have voiced to Mikey that he too looked awful, but common sense told him that, from Mikey’s final exchange with the guy in scrubs, Mikey had just had another attack. Not exactly the best time to unload his shit on his friend..

“Uh, Pete? In your own time. You were the one that wanted to know if I was free!”

Dragging himself back from his thoughts, Pete sighed. “Now I’m here, and seeing as you’ve only recently calmed down, it doesn’t seem like the right time to dump my issues on you. Are you sure you’re ok? D’you need to go back to Gee’s?”

“I’m fine now,” Mikey lied. “You’re in danger of sounding like my brother. I don’t need wrapping in cotton wool. Anyways, you look like you’re in need of an ear; so, shoot.”

“Mind if I get a coffee first? You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good…er…no…wait up, nix that. Can you get me a small Americano, please?” Mikey slid five bucks cross the table. “No flirting with the hot chick behind the counter,” he warned, as he gave Pete a wink.

Pete did not rise to Mikey’s comment. Flirting, and what usually followed, had got him into this mess…although, she was certainly good looking. Pete flashed his patented, heart-stopping smile as he ordered the two drinks.

“There you go! Mainlining coffee again I see.” Pete nodded towards the half-drunk large coffee Mikey already had.

“If I have to sit through one of your stories, then I’m gonna need something to keep me going, and it’s too early for beer.”

Pete took a long sip of coffee, summoning up the courage to tell Mikey what had happened.

“Patrick has kicked me out permanently. Said he couldn’t cope with the others anymore.”

Pete could see Mikey trying to bite back a response. Pete knew that it would be something along the lines of, you deserved it, it’s your own fault, serves you right. Mikey would be correct too.

“Surely you could see this coming?” Mikey had not been able to restrain himself fully.

“But… he knew that was how it would be. I was upfront about it. I never promised to be monogamous.”

“Yeah, but you kept rubbing it in his face. What happened?”

“Well, I got er…”

“Totally shit-faced last night. I know, I was there for most of it.”

Pete could feel the tears of shame pricking at his eyes. Humiliated that he had been off his medications for weeks now, that he had been getting increasingly drunk when he went out and was being a complete asshole to everyone.

“You weren't exactly subtle with that bartender …”

Pete swallowed hard before interrupting Mikey. He had to admit what was going on to someone. It was a gamble telling Mikey, but he was also the only one that had shared the same circumstances that started had the meltdown. “I got so freaked by the Frank and Gee incident. What we did for them. I started to lose my shit over ‘what if this had happened’, ‘what if that had happened’. I…I…I’ve not been taking my pills. I kinda needed to feel my real emotions, not this medically balanced numbness. I never imagined it would lead to this!”

“Pete! You …” Mikey stopped mid-sentence. Pete noticed that Mikey’s eyes dropped to his coffee, and his right hand reached into his pocket for something. Most likely his own prescription medication.

“I know its fucking stupid. Please don’t say that. I’m not looking for a lecture; not digging for sympathy either. I just had to get it off my chest.”

Mikey nodded. “So, what pushed ‘Trick over the edge?”

“He found me in our bathroom with Rian.”

Mikey almost spat his coffee over the table.

“I have to say, I’ve seen you do some insane crap over the years, but that…that beats everything. Sorry, Pete, I can’t say I blame Patrick. You do mean Rian, the kid from All Time Low, don’t you?”

“Yeah, him. Patrick left not long after you. I told Rian that Patrick hadn’t gone home and that we had a fully open relationship, so he had probably gone off with someone else. God knows why Rian believed me, but he went with it. Might have been that shit that Bob gave everyone after the show. But anyway, he came back with me. I knew ‘Trick would be in bed; I thought he’d be asleep. No idea what crap I spouted to get Rian into the bathroom, but there I was with my hand down his pants, when Trick stumbles in to piss.” 

Pete could not continue. All the flash and dazzle of his manic self was gone right now. In the time it had taken to come into the coffee shop, order two coffees and confess to Mikey, his mood had swung down to its lowest ebb again. He had forgotten the agony of rapid cycling, being up then down, sometimes both at the same time. His medication had successfully kept the excesses of his emotional swings at bay for years now. It was all too much for Pete. He put his head in his hands, then as the tears overcame his body, he ended up resting his arms and head on the table. Mikey looked on in concern, unsure what to do to comfort his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my lovelies, how was that filler chapter? Is it time for Mikey to man up, swoop in there and take a chance on Pete? What about Pete's little confession, then? See, Gee's certainly not just going to fall back into Frank's arms - I'm too much of a realist to go straight there, even if this is fiction!
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter - just note smut is really challenging for me, but don't let that stop you requesting it.


	5. Chapter 4 – Well I’m a total wreck and almost every day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ray could add two and two together, come up with fish instead of four, be satisfied with his answer, and Frank’s dark deed would remain hidden from his friend."
> 
> The one in which Frank seeks Ray's advice and Mikey's dirty little secret is forced into the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies, another chapter for you. This time there's a little twist to the plot.
> 
> I hope that I got all the typos and other errors, if not apologies.

*Two weeks later – Frank’s PoV*  
“Ok, speak to you in two weeks, Frank. Next time I want to hear your counters to the old patterns of thinking. Not some stuff that you found on the internet because you think it will shut me up. Look out for my reminder text and email.”

“I won’t,” Frank muttered as closed the Skype app on his laptop. Was now an ideal time to practice his thinking and behaviour modifications? He purposefully unclenched his jaw and fists, reminding himself that this was going to give him the best shot at not ending up on the wrong side of the law, and more importantly, his only hope of building something meaningful with Gerard; if only Gerard would give him an answer. 

Frank checked his schedule. He had another hour until his monthly meeting with the Operations Director, time enough to catch up with Ray over a coffee. Ray was always the voice of reason and sanity. Even with only a month to go until his wedding, Ray played ‘agony aunt’ to the group in his usual calm, sensible manner. Frank needed that calm demeanour instead of stewing over Gerard and being caught out by his therapist. Believe it or not, she thought he was making progress. She appeared thoroughly invested in helping not just ticking a box. Good thing too, given the investment Frank was making. She wasn’t cheap and was out of network, so his insurance would not cover it.

“Hey, Ray. Got time for a quick chat?”

“Yep, meet you downstairs in a couple. What’s up?”

“Tell you over an almond milk latte!”

As he left his office, Frank leaned in towards his team’s PA. “If anyone’s looking for me, I’ll be back in two hours. I have a last-minute meeting with Mr Toro-Ortiz to go over some supplier details before my meeting with the big boss.”

“Sure thing, Frank.” Sarah smiled knowingly at him. She managed his diary, so of course, she knew he did not have any planned meetings now, but he was her superior and not someone she wanted to cross. Despite being relatively new, Sarah had already unwittingly experienced Frank’s explosions; she was not about to provoke one by calling him out on this unexpected ‘meeting’.

Settled in with their drinks at the nearby Starbucks, Ray launched straight in. “Why are you being so anti-social? It’s not like you to miss going out with the group.” 

When Bob and Brendon had asked Frank the same question, he had given them some bullshit about a heavy workload making sure that his company’s new product line hit the market on time. He suspected Ray would not buy that; Ray possessed the most infuriatingly accurate bullshit radar, plus he worked for the same firm. 

“Wanted to get some space…” The true answer, just not the whole truth.

“What happened between you and Gerard?” 

Shit, Frank thought. He hoped Ray had not put two and two together. Frank liked to delude himself that no-one other than himself, Gee, Mikey, and now Pete, suspected that he had been knocking Gerard about.

“We’re…on a break…” Boy, did that sound weak and unbelievable. ‘A break’! Who says that? Would Ray let it drop?

“Hmm.” Frank watched as Ray absentmindedly tapped the rim of his coffee cup. 

The air was heavy with the obvious next questions. First was, why did Frank need space? Not exactly the first course of action that came to mind when thinking of Frank Iero, ‘Mr not in touch with his feelings’! The second question that the story raised was whether Frank knew about what had happened to Gerard? Frank did not know what story Gerard had told their friends. He had not asked, and Gerard had not offered the information.

“Space, huh? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

Ok, time to let on about this Alex thing. It was bugging him how a chance meeting with Alex had been so catalytic in his life, and how he could not let the thoughts about him go. If he bottled it, he would see it as a waste of both his and Ray’s time. Plus, he would still be as frustrated about the situation with Gee and Alex.

“I’m trying to avoid Alex. I know it’s immature. There’s this thing about him though. If I believed in that crap, I would say that he is my nemesis, my kryptonite. Since he came on the scene, things have become crazier. I feel ridiculous admitting this, a grown man suggesting that some young punk he has only met a few times is screwing up his life. Problem is, Ray, I can’t escape that feeling.”

To be honest, Frank was expecting Ray to laugh at him. Instead, Ray ran a hand through his thick, curly hair, fixed his eyes firmly on Frank and told him the story of how he had avoided Christa at first because for a year or so she always seemed to be around or involved in some way when a significant event happened. Then there was the general fear of commitment and getting too close to another human being who might see what you were really like, become disillusioned, leaving you hurt and needy. Eventually, Ray said that he decided that the fear of not finding out why she was always entangled in his affairs was greater than the fear of being hurt. 

The brilliant part to all of this was it took the focus away from Frank and Gerard. Ray could add two and two together, come up with fish instead of four, be satisfied with his answer, and Frank’s dark deed would remain hidden from his friend.

The two men finished their coffees in companionable silence. As they headed back to the office, Frank clapped a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Thanks, bro. Needed to get that off my chest. What you said about you and Christa makes a lot of sense.”

Frank could see that it made a lot of sense for Ray and Christa’s situation. Hell, it may even have made sense if he had been genuinely after Alex. However, it made no sense because he had no clue how Alex fitted into things. Frank would give his therapist her dues though, talking to someone about the issue had dissipated the pent-up frustration somewhat. If only he could keep talking things through with Gerard, but he had disappeared.

*Same time – Gerard’s PoV*  
Gerard had been correct in his assumption that his boss, Lisa, would not let up on him, or consider his recent injuries. The Ice Queen was on his back day in and day out to get her quarter-end figures right by Friday’s deadline. Gerard congratulated himself on sacrificing his last two Saturday’s to catch up on the backlog. At least now he was only dealing with the current data, the final dregs of the quarter.

“Where are we with the quarter-end reconciliations, Gerard?”

“They’ll be done by close of play Friday,” he assured her, hoping that his tone sounded confident enough.

“Make that mid-morning, so I’ve got time to review them.” Gerard watched open mouthed as she spun on her expensive stiletto heels to harass another of his colleagues with the same request.

It took Gerard a few seconds to realise he looked like a goldfish and shut his mouth. “For fuck’s sake. Honestly, I swear she hasn’t got a clue what it takes to get this shit done. Another couple of late nights I guess.” 

Gerard was not conscious of having spoken out loud until he heard a snicker from the next cubicle, followed by, “Yup, no frickin’ clue, man. What I wouldn’t give to see someone wipe that sanctimonious look off her frigid face. Still, I suppose until then we’ll just have to do what we’re told like the spineless idiots we are.”

“Uh, huh. Just shut your mouth, take the crap, and be grateful for the lousy paycheck,” Gerard responded, then plugged his earphones back in and checked his e-mail one last time before diving back into the mindless reconciliations. They would have to wait. It could not be! But it was. An e-mail from Bert. That was so unlike him; he preferred obscurely worded text messages. Why now? It was not as if they were in regular contact. Gerard had, heroically he thought, managed on the pain management the hospital had given him, rather than ask Mikey to go to Bert

E-mail: You know that your kid brother owes me, big time, right? How about you pay it off instead, if you know what I mean?

“What the fuck!” What did Bert mean, Mikey owed him? 

*Same time – Mikey’s PoV*  
Sometimes the spark you needed to know what to write just would not appear in the office. All the research, all the soundbites from both sides of an issue might be there but finding the angle to make your version of the news click-worthy remained elusive. Mikey swore that was why coffee shops had been invented, and no one was going to persuade him any differently. He had only just ensconced himself in a booth with his coffee and notebook when his phone vibrated. Mikey debated whether to look or not. He was trying and mostly failing, not to be controlled by that infernal buzzing, pinging and vibrating. He wondered whether becoming so attached to the phone was contributing in some way to the panic and anxiety.

Unknown number: Check your email – you’ll find it enlightening.

Mikey gulped. He vaguely recognised the number, but he was not sure. He looked up and glanced around the coffee shop. Logic told him that whoever had sent the text was not in the place with him. Paranoia, on the other hand, was yelling that they were watching him. There were only a handful of other customers. Mikey did not immediately recognise any of them. The one person he did remember was the cute barista he had been talking to most days since they had both witnessed Pete’s very public meltdown in that coffee shop. She was collecting empties a few tables along. She turned away quickly, blushing as she caught sight of Mikey looking in her direction. Yeah, Mikey reckoned, he could certainly have a shot with her if he could only figure out how he felt about both Pete, and relationships in general, after recent events. His phone vibrated again, pulling his attention back to who had sent the text message, and what would the e-mail say. 

With a creeping feeling that shit was about to go down, Mikey decided to return to the relative privacy of his cubicle. Work, though, would have to wait until he had dealt with these unexpected communications. Back at his desk, Mikey wished he had not bothered looking. The e-mail was a blind copy of the one sent to his brother.

“Shit,” he exclaimed, before clamping a hand over his mouth. The cat was now well and truly out of the bag. He could no longer take the moral high ground with Gee. The drugs he had been taking were so ineffectual against his anxiety. His doctor kept refusing a different or stronger prescription. He had not meant for it to become the habit it had, but he was not an addict like Gee had been, he could stop any time he wanted, right? Mike consoled himself with the thought that he had also been a good brother. He knew that there was no way Gerard would have coped on the pain management regime the hospital had laid out. The doctor had given it to Mikey, not Gerard, so Mikey had added a little something to it, you know just to give his big brother some relief, so they could both get some sleep at night. How the fuck had it got to this stage? He did not recall owing Bert much.

This time, his head did not swim, nor did his heart beat faster. This time, a cold, clammy feeling swept over his body as he stared vacantly at his phone; his hand still covering his mouth. Imperceptibly he started rocking back and forwards, unable to think anything but, “oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh God…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that little twist? What do you think Bert's plan is for Gee? How will it affect any chance of a Frank and Gee reunion? What about Frank and Alex - what is really going on there?
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter.
> 
> As a final note this will be the last post under the Morgawse name, as I am consolidating my names across a number of sites and will be using a variant of Disenchanted Halo from here on. If you've seen this post on any of my other fics, apologies, but I want to make sure as many of my wonderful readers as possible are aware of the change.


	6. Chapter 5 – Shotgun Sinners & Wild-eyed Jokers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which: Frank loses his temper (again) and blames all his problems on meeting Alex; and we get a glimpse into how Brendon and Ryan's relationship really works!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear Frank. OOH really Ryan? Not saying anymore. See you at the end.
> 
> I hope I got all the typos and errors, if not apologies.

*Ryan’s apartment – three weeks later *

Brendon combed his hand absentmindedly through Ryan’s hair. The older man’s head was resting on his chest, while Ryan gently caressed Brendon’s torso. Bredon inclined his head intent on drinking in every sweet inch of his boyfriend. Ryan, despite being the elder of the two, always looked so young, innocent and fragile. A half-smile, half-smirk lit up Brendon’s face as he reflected on how looks can be deceiving.

Disturbed by Brendon’s unexpected movement, Ryan shifted off to his side of the bed. Now sitting upright wedged between the headboard and the corner of the room, he drew the covers around him, exposing more of Brendon’s body to the cool air.

“Hey sweetheart, what’s up?”

“Just feels a little fresh in here without your body heat.”

“So, why d’you move then, Dummy?” Brendon pulled the covers back off Ryan, then opened his arms in an invitation for him to snuggle back in again.

“Uh, uh!” Ryan snatched the covers back. “You sorta startled me when you laughed. I was starting to drift off. So, now I’m awake, you gotta tell me what was so funny.”

Brendon did not bother to hold back his chuckles this time, enjoying Ryan’s quizzical expression. Tugging playfully on the comforter he giggled, “let me have some of this, and I’ll let you in on the joke.”

Feigning reluctance, Ryan let Brendon take what share of the bedclothes he wanted. He drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them, and looked expectantly at Brendon.

“I was thinking, Ry, about how looks can be deceiving. I mean, everyone we know thinks I’m the bad boy, and you’re the poor hard-done-by angel. Nowhere near as badly treated as Frank treats Gee, but still mistreated in some weird-ass, semi-open relationship.”

“Err…I’d have to say that our relationship is certainly weird-ass!”

“That’s my point exactly.” Brendon pointed to a shelving unit in the corner of the room. “Who would guess that you own an extensive collection of DVD’s showing me in all manner of sexual acts with other men?”

“They could be yours?”

“Your apartment, your bedroom.”

“Yeah, but you live here full time. It’s not like you have your own place across town!”

“See, even now you are trying to profess innocence, and keep up that “butter wouldn’t melt” image. I’ll just get you something to clean and shore up your halo. It looks like the shine is coming off it as it slips further down away from it’s supposed place above your head.” Brendon ducked before Ryan could slap him.

“Can’t deny that it helps you though? What do you reckon the chances had been if you had told those you openly filmed the true reason that you were filming them?”

“I did tell them the truth,” Brendon retorted, pursing his lips.

Ryan snorted. “No, you told them part of the truth, that I know you hook up with other men.”

“Yeah, so what? That’s the only truth they need. I have to be careful not to scare them off you know. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be anything for you to get your rocks off watching, would there? Besides any idiot with half a brain should catch on that there is a high degree of probability that I would share them with you.”

Ryan hummed. “But, your casual hook-ups don’t often have anywhere close to half a brain, do they? Talking of watching your hookups. Any success with Jack?”

Bredon rolled his eyes. “That guy might just be the one where the chase ends up being too much trouble.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. This was not Brendon’s usual response.

“He is so sure that he has to stay faithful to Alex; so oblivious that Alex isn’t faithful to him…”

“And obsessed with Frank. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed Alex pining after him?”

“That’s not escaped my attention. Cute isn’t it?” Brendon sighed. “Honestly, I’d rather be going after Alex, but …”

“Aww, how chivalrous of you. You’re gonna leave him for the small, yet seriously bad wolf.” Ryan grinned from ear to ear at his cleverness for bringing Frank’s height into the discussion.

“Funny, asshole! But, sadly, true.”

“So, back to Jackie boy then. When do I get my footage? Is it going to be covert? Please say yes!”

Brendon hesitated before responding. “Actually Ry, I was wondering if this time we might make it a threesome…We would still secretly film it…and…and”

“Go on, what?” Ryan was curious to find out where this was going.

“If you played all coy and grudging like you were doing me a favour, it would help keep your innocent reputation intact.”

Ryan’s open mouth told Brendon that he had not been expecting that. 

“Think about it at least, Ry.” Brendon pleaded as he reached over to close Ryan’s gaping jaw. As he continued to observe Ryan, Brendon could see the cogs starting to whir behind the 1000-yard stare.

*Frank’s apartment*  
“Shit – how in hell did the little cocksucker get hold of my …oh, crap! Of course, I gave it to him the day we first met.”

Frank glowered at his phone in disbelief. Alex had sent him a string of texts. Previously Frank would have been elated that one of his conquests had become infatuated with him. It amused Frank. Once he had someone in the palm of his hand like this, it was highly entertaining to manipulate and play with them. However, this was not any old conquest, this was Alex. Alex, whose appearance just so happened to coincide with Frank’s life derailing. Gerard had still not given him an answer. Work sucked with all the usual headaches and dramas that came ahead of any new big product launch, but this was the first he had headed up for production – the buck stopped with him. Casual hook-ups were few and far between because of the hermit lifestyle he had adopted, so he was reduced to the status of a teenage boy satisfying his needs with his right hand and internet porn. Add to that pile of shit, facing all of this while having to practice his anger management techniques was both infuriating (ironic - huh), and exhausting.

Text message: Frank, please answer me. It would be brilliant to see you at our next gig. We’ve been approached to play at a ‘Local Up and Coming Bands Night’ at White Eagle Hall. None of this would have happened without you. A

Text message: Dude, you seriously need to get back out with us. The whole crew is going out Friday – not sure where yet, I’ll text when I am. At least do the next ATL gig Sunday week. Bob

Text message: We could meet up after the show, just the two of us. A

Text message: When you coming out to play again? If you can’t make Friday, see you at the ATL show next Sunday? Miss my partner in lewd crime! Pete. p.s. You, me & Bren should compare notes on Rian, Jack and Alex! Who gets Zack tho? 

Text message: Hey boss, got a minute? That key component supplier I was worried about just lost their production line. Says it will be two days minimum before they’re back up and running. Help. What do I do? Jake.

Text message: PLEASE say you’ll be there! A

“FUCK IT!” How was he supposed to deal with people hounding him like this? Frank hurled his phone across the room not caring if it got damaged. It would not be the first time, and that was what insurance was for – right? The next thing he knew, he was pounding the walls with his fists.

“I’m not gonna be dictated to. I decide. I choose. I’m the one in fucking control. No one plays me for a sucker!” An unintelligible stream of curses then tore from his lips. The rage swirled around his body, blood and adrenaline coursing through his veins as his punching and screaming found a soothing rhythm. Anger satiated, he sank down against the wall. He could inspect the damage later. His knuckles hurt, so he figured some repairs to the living room décor would be necessary, even if his phone had survived unscathed. Calm descended again. Why was it, he mused, that venting his anger like that was way more gratifying than these lame-ass anger management techniques? 

His thinking was clearer now that the pent-up emotion was spent – immeasurably sharper. Gerard, he could do nothing about. He had given the man the option and the space to make the decision; all Frank could do now was control his reaction to the torture that was waiting for an answer, while ignoring the silence that had become so deafening that it was almost a response by default. It occurred to Frank that the Alex situation was different. Logic said that Alex had no clue about his impact on Frank’s world. Sure, Alex knew that Frank had Gerard, but he knew nothing of how Frank felt for Gee. As he considered this, something deep inside Frank twisted at how ‘had’ might now be the operative word for his relationship with Gerard. The whole ‘Alex is instrumental to this clusterfuck’ tale was contained in Frank’s mind and his mind alone. Ray was the only person who had an inkling that Alex had got to Frank, but even Ray did not comprehend the reality of the state of affairs.

The little angel that occasionally appeared on Frank’s shoulder chose that moment to make its presence felt. The angel reminded Frank of what he had promised himself – that he would play ‘nice’.

“Not now, ok.” Frank willed the angel to go away. He was so done with being Mr Considerate; he wanted to feel like him again – strong, powerful, dominating and in charge. Alex was practically begging for it. Surely it could not be wrong to give both him and Alex what they wanted? 

That pesky angel was insistent. If Frank adopted his usual tactics, the angel piped up, only he would get what he wanted. Eventually, Alex would be cast aside, left to feel humiliated and used.

Where was that goddamn devil to shut the irritating little shit up? Frank wanted validation that his plan for revenge on Alex’s effect on his life was justified. He remembered that biblical phrase that the ‘teachers’ at his Catholic school had used to defend the bizarre and unusual punishments they meted out on Frank and his classmates, “an eye for an eye”. If Alex became a casualty in all this, then it was simply pay-back.

What about karma, Frank?

“Arghhh! Shut the fuck up. I am the karma delivery system here,” Frank shouted at the invisible voice of reason. “I am merely doing to Alex as he has done to me – screw my life up!”

Frank picked himself up off the floor to fetch his phone. As he inspected it for damage, mercifully there was none, a cruel smile formed on his lips. Better sort Jake out first he told himself, dialling his employee’s number. As annoying as it was to have deal with work stuff, it gave his idea on what to do about Alex some time to mature. Sure enough, by the time he had convinced Jake that the world was not about to fall on his head and that with a little careful shuffling around of a few things, the delay could be mitigated, the revenge plan was completely formed.

“Hi, Alex. This is Frank. Yeah, I got your texts – White Eagle Hall, huh? Awesome.” And the game was now definitely afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Ryan Ross a voyeur! Who would have thought it?
> 
> Has Frank completely lost the plot and what revenge is he going to wreak on an unexpecting Alex? I would love to hear your guesses. :)
> 
> I have written a little ahead on this story, so am going to post it weekly, while I put my Cyberpunk Crucifies my Enemies on hold for a while to straighten the plot out a little (oops!). 
> 
> I do also have a new series which starting some time this week, which will star the MCR guys as space pirates. The first of the standalone stories will be "Welcome to the Bullet's Revenge". I would love you to check it out. :)
> 
> As I always say, I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter.


	7. Chapter 6 – Save yourself, I’ll hold him back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete gets himself stuck in the middle of Way brother dramas - again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Numerous POV jumps in this chapter - even Bert gets one! 
> 
> As always, I think I got the typos and errors. If I didn't, apologies.
> 
> I know I missed an update last week, so I might update this again later in the week - no promises though! ;)

Mikey’s PoV

Mikey was wrestling with his latest article. It lacked something. It read ok, but it did not grab you or live up to the expectations of the clickbait title he had given it. Frustrated, he shoved his chair back. Time for a quick break. Clear his mind and come back to it.

“Stace, want a cup of water? Need to get away from this piece for a few.”

“Yeah, awesome. Thanks. Must be going around. I interviewed some upcoming NFL draftee yesterday. It sounds awful. He was so uninteresting that I don’t think there is any way to salvage it!”

Mikey threw his colleague a sympathetic look as he wandered over to the water cooler. Gulping a cup down in one, Mikey poured two more. His mind drifted off his article as he had hoped. Unfortunately for Mikey, instead it began replaying all the woes of the last week. The text from Bert. Trying to avoid his older brother. Attempting to negotiate something with Bert that did not involve Gerard. Begging Bert not to accept any offer his big brother might make to save Mikey’s skin.

The ‘don’t be in the same place as your brother by yourself’ tactic had been a partial success. Gerard had not laid into him, only asked the pointed question “why Bert?” Running away from his brother’s disappointment had led to the embarrassing situation of sharing a motel bed with Pete for a night. Under certain other circumstances, Mikey would have been elated at the chance to sleep in the same bed as Pete. However, that night had been no more than sharing a bed because it was easier to get Pete to say yes than either Ray or Bob. Pete was already enmeshed in the saga of Gerard’s injuries, and with his past self-medicating issues would understand Mikey’s actions. The parts of the tale Mikey left out, of course, were his habit and that McCracken was the dealer. He did not need the whole ‘you dumb fuck’ lecture from Pete.

Bert had agreed not to make any further moves on Gerard while he and Mikey were working in an acceptable solution. Mikey was not convinced that Bert would keep his word, although what else could he do but take that promise at face value. He had proposed a ‘payment’ plan. All he could do now was wait.

Bert’s PoV  
Was Mikey Way truly that gullible? Bert now had the perfect opportunity to have both Way siblings under his control. He knew plenty of people who would pay to play with siblings, especially two as cute as Gerard and Mikey. He would give Mikey credit. He was feistier than his older brother, although Bert remembered the fire in those hazel eyes that had initially drawn him to Gerard. He had made damn sure that by the time he had finished with Gerard, that light had vanished. Now it was time to do that with Mikey. It would make for a more interesting time breaking Mikey in once Bert made him aware that his precious older brother would not be spared the ignominy of helping to clear the obligations. Bert licked his lips in anticipation.

Truthfully, Gerard’s current physical condition was a problem. If he were too delicate, no john would want him. Putting the plan into full swing would have to wait a bit, but in the meantime, he would ratchet up the heat on Mikey and extort what cash he could before moving in for his pound of flesh. Bert cackled loudly at the thought that Mikey seemed blissfully unaware that Bert and Gerard had already met to discuss Gerard’s terms of surrender. Bert had rightly counted on Gerard’s overprotective big brother response. Both Way brothers had played directly into his hands, just as he dared to hope.

Now, how to word a response to Mikey’s offer for maximum impact? Bert hummed as he pondered. He had to ensure that the pretence of sticking to his word remained intact yet allude to the fact that while Mikey’s offer was acceptable, it would not fully cover the debt. Something extra would be required. A gigantic smirk spread across his face as the appropriate words formed in his brain. Deftly, Bert typed the text message, before hitting send with a flourish. Satisfied with his handiwork so far, Bert leant back and basked in his devious genius.

Gerard’s PoV  
Gerard stared blankly at the food in front of him. He was beyond pissed at Mikey, yet also deeply grateful to him that he had cared enough to do what Gerard had not had the balls to ask him to do. He would not hesitate to protect his little brother, no matter how idiotic Mikey’s actions. Finding himself back in Bert’s clutches had not been exactly high on his priority list; however, given Mikey’s predicament, it was now No.1. If saving his younger brother meant going back to Bert, then that was what he would do irrespective of the personal cost. Technically he was still deliberating on Frank’s request but had not even thought about it since the e-mail and initial meeting with Bert. Now that thoughts of Frank had crept back into his consciousness, Gerard knew that Mikey had inadvertently taken the decision out of Gerard’s hands. Ironically, Mikey had got what he wanted with the ending of Frank and Gerard’s relationship. The seriously un-funny part of about it was that it was only going to happen because Mikey’s behaviour had only served to push his sibling out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Gerard was suspicious of Bert. He knew that even if Mikey could scrape together all the money he owed, Bert would want that little bit more – in services, not in cash. Cash was easy to come by; willing whores that were not deadbeat junkies, not so common. Strangely Gerard felt like he was responsible for some of Mikey’s liability. If the hospital had given him some effective pain relief, then Mikey may not have felt the need to source some for him from elsewhere.

Gerard’s main concern was whether Bert would allow him to work off any outstanding debt, plus the extra, sparing Mikey the horror of hawking himself out in seedy motel rooms and alleyways. Besides, Gerard already knew the ropes, knew how to stay safe. He wondered what Bert would expect this time around. Previously, because they had been in a relationship, Bert refused to allow anyone else to fuck Gee. Gerard’s services were limited to handjobs and blowjobs. Would it be different this time, solely in Bert’s employ to pay off Mikey’s debt?

*Pete’s PoV*  
There was no getting around it, apartment hunting sucked. Especially when all you could afford in the good part of town was a tiny studio. Pete had seen enough of the shitty end of town from staying at the motel. So far, he had survived unscathed, but for how long? What he needed was something in between the two.

Pete was growing to accept that he and Patrick were finally over. Time to move on. Hence the apartment hunting. For a fleeting moment, the idea of running back to Illinois had crossed his mind. It was nothing more than a passing thought though; there was nothing left for him there. Sure, his parents would be pleased to have him closer; however, they were all that could draw him back to live there. Frankly, to do that seemed like running away with his tail between his legs – from Patrick, and possibly also from Rian. Rian was, understandably, currently avoiding Pete. Being caught in the act as they had been by Patrick was embarrassing, to say the least. Rian was probably smart enough to figure out that he had been fed a bunch of lies by Pete about his relationship with Patrick, just to get into Rian’s pants. So, even though Pete was now a free agent, there was little chance of anything further with Rian. Pete was unsure whether he wanted anything more with Rian, or the thrill of the chase had, as usual, been enough. There was this comfortable feeling though when they were talking. It had been there since Pete had decided that Rian would become another one of his conquests and instigated their first proper conversation. Getting to know Rian better could have been fun under other circumstances. Who knew what the future held once the dust settled? Pete could have sworn that he saw something other than lust in Rian’s face when they were talking, a hint of genuine interest in Pete maybe? Or was that wishful thinking?

Still, not being someone to sit at home and mope, Pete was not going to let the tension between him and the two other men stop him from going out with the guys as a group. Ok, it would be uncomfortable for a while, but he, Trick and Rian were not the only people to ever find themselves in the circumstances, nor would they be the last. A new normal for the group would materialise in due course.

“No, nope, not going there.” Pete shook his head at the random thought that had popped into his head. If he was prepared to move out to the park area they were trying to gentrify; he might be able to afford a bigger apartment in one of the new blocks. He had heard they were doing some good deals to fill them. The idea itself was not terrible; Pete hated living alone indefinitely. What was ridiculous was who his brain suggested he share with – Mikey.

There were so many cons to that plan. At the top of that list was the revelation of Mikey getting mixed up with drugs dealers. Pete called bullshit on Mikey denying he had only done it to get painkillers for his brother. The way Mikey talked about the size of the debt, there had to be more to it than that. Come to think of it, Pete recollected that he had seen Mikey take his anxiety meds from a plastic baggie at times. You don’t take meds you got legitimately from the pharmacy out of their packaging. Pete had ignored it at the time but looking back it was no different than his behaviour when he had been caught up in the drugs scene. He suspected that Mikey’s little habit might have been the real reason Alicia had thrown him out, rather than the reasons Mikey had disclosed. Now that Mikey was in debt to some dealer named Bert McCracken, that put a whole new perspective on their friendship. As much as Pete wanted company and wanted to be a good friend, he was not going to be embroiled in another Way family drama.

“Couldn’t hurt to take a spin over to the area.” Pete convinced himself. “You know, see what is available ‘fee free’, and what deals they’re doing. Then I can rule it out as a possible course of action.”

Ten minutes later Pete was arranging a viewing of a 20th-floor one-bedroom apartment with great views of the park and the town. Before he could finalise the appointment, his phone rang. Pete frowned as he looked at the caller ID. It was Gerard.

“Excuse me, I have to take this call, but 6 pm tomorrow would be great.” Puzzled as to why Gerard was calling him, Pete answered.

“Pete, can you give me a lift to the medical centre. It’s Mikey! He collapsed at work having another one of his attacks.”

“Crap, sure Gerard. Is he ok? Is he awake? Er...where are you? I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll fill you in on the way. Please hurry.” Gerard then gave Pete his office address, promising to text it as well, then hung up.

“Shit, goddammit. Those Way brothers will be the death of me.” Pete was ensnared in their mess again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mikey, eh? So this does push the plot along, even if it looks fillerish. This starts to set up one of the main threads that (eventually) get Frank and Gerard to their happy ending.
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter.


	8. *Chapter 7 – The touch of a serpent son*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank screws up yet again - this time with Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So second update this week. I even impressed myself!
> 
> ***Potential trigger warning - I added "dubious consent" to the tags for this chapter, because Alex starts out very willing and never attempts to stop Frank when he goes further than Alex anticipated, but if something like that can trigger you, please pass on this chapter!***
> 
> I think I got most of the typos and errors. If any remain, apologies.

Frank’s PoV - one week later  
To Frank, Jersey City was nothing more than a couple of exits off the Turnpike on the way to Newark airport or the Shore. He had heard of White Eagle Hall, but despite his affiliations with the New Jersey music scene, he had never been there and knew nothing much about it or its location. What Frank did know was that wherever there were small music venues, there will always be seedy alleyways nearby. Jersey City did not disappoint. Said alley had a distinct film noir atmosphere, and surprisingly did not totally reek of piss or lord knows what else. It was the perfect spot for his rendezvous with Alex.

Five minutes prior, Alex had texted saying that he would be a bit late. Frank allowed himself a malicious smile. There was enough time to achieve another part of his plan. Sure enough, he swiftly received a text back from Brendon with thanks for the information. No doubt Brendon would take the opportunity to move in for the kill with Jack.

Leaning back against the wall, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth, Frank waited for the sound of footsteps. At their approach, Frank made sure to adopt his most casual, yet ‘fuck me now’ pose.

“Hey, Frank! Sorry, couldn’t shake Jack. Christ knows why he’s been so clingy lately. He’s usually so easy going.”

Frank tried to stifle a chuckle but ended up snorting. He passed it off with a comment about clingy boyfriends being a serious turn-off. A warning shot to Alex if you will. It also acted as a blessed deflection from the real reason he was amused. With Brendon chasing Jack so hard, the guilt Jack felt was no doubt what was making him a leech at Alex’s side. Frank had seen it many times before. Prey caught in the final throes of defiance. A vain attempt to convince themselves that they were going to refute the ‘unwelcome’ advances and remain faithful to their partner. Never happened that way though.

The game before Frank, however, was different. Alex had already succumbed. He was verging on the needy himself the way he had been pestering Frank via text. He was obviously nervous too. Frank remained leant against the wall, taking a deep drag off his cigarette while he looked Alex up and down. He made damn sure Alex knew that he was doing it. Frank’s eyes lingered on Alex’s face and his crotch just long enough to leave no room for ambiguity about his intentions for their clandestine liaison. There was no need, on Frank’s part, to fake lustful intention partly seeing as he was practically a sex addict – always seeking out his next sexual high, but mainly, in the here and now, because Alex looked smoking hot. The taller man had dyed streaks of blonde into his hair, the merest hint of stubble graced his face, a loose sleeveless t-shirt hung off his lithe body, peeking out from underneath the plaid flannel, then there were the skin-tight black jeans. Alex was chewing ever so slightly at the corner of his bottom lip, the fingers of his right hand playing with the frayed edge of his shirtsleeve and shifting his weight surreptitiously from foot to foot. His eyes, however, told Frank a different story. Behind this apprehensive exterior was a smouldering desire. The man had not come to the alleyway to shoot the breeze.

“You gonna stop fidgeting and get over here?”

“What, no small talk, Frank?”

“Nah, strictly business. No fun in the idle chit-chat. So, if you here for a cosy little tête à tête – turn around and find that insecure boyfriend of yours. If not …”  
Frank did not get a chance to finish his sentence before Alex had knocked the cigarette out of Frank’s hand, smashing their lips together as he ground the cancer stick out with his sneakered toe. Frank hated to admit it, but he was caught off guard. Once again Alex had disrupted the plan. Not enough to ruin it; there was a long way to go before that could happen. Still, Frank’s ego wanted to be the one dictating proceedings from the get-go. He was flattered, yet not surprised that he had this effect on Alex, but a tussle for supremacy was not what he had expected. After he had regained his internal composure, the unanticipated challenge excited him. Could he ratchet up what he had planned a notch or two?

Frank’s biggest cheerleader in the screwing people over department now had cause to make himself known – egging Frank on to more intense actions. As Frank settled on the new and improved plan, that tiny devil’s voice rang out loud and clear in Frank’s head, “Game on!”

Frank may have been the shorter of the two men, but he was more muscular and stronger than Alex. Without much effort, Frank switched their positions so that Alex had his back against the wall. One of Frank’s hands kept Alex pinned there; the other sought its way under his t-shirt making its way to the waistband of Alex’s jeans.

*Alex’s PoV*  
He hit send on the text, then pocketed his phone.

“But, Alex, do you have to go? What’s so fucking important that you have to do it today, right before the gig?”

“Jack, grow up. We’ve never been joined at the hip before. Why now?”

“Just worried’s all.”

“For fuck’s sake, about what? Everything’s starting to work out for us.”

“Yeah, well, I know this sounds stupid, but that’s why. Nothing goes right forever, ya know. I can’t say I like this place, either. Doesn’t feel right.”

Alex laughed, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Ok, dumbass. Did you think the shitty small venues that were gonna let us play our crappy pop punk would be in millionaire’s row?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m not a moron; I get that they’ll usually be in the shadier part of town. It's just -I swear I saw some weird shit going down as we drove in.”  
“Weirder than anything you saw in Maryland?"

“I guess I hoped we’d left that behind.”

“Yet here we are in New Jersey and its still like that, huh? Anything else wrong?”

Jack mumbled a no, but that was not what his body language and expression told Alex. He decided that as he was already late, to let it drop. He had enough on his plate with working out how he felt about Frank. Alex had come to terms with the fact that he had a massive crush on Frank, even though he had only seen him a few times. He was confident that Frank was not boyfriend material; he had figured that out weeks ago, and besides, he was comfortable with Jack. What Alex had no clue about was were the crush would lead, where it could go, or even where did he want it to go. If only those answers were easy to come by.

“So, you’re still going?”

“Yes, babes. I am.” Alex leaned into Jack and kissed him softly on the lips. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll be back in plenty of time. It’s me remember – Mr Anxiety must be places super early, so I’m not late! Oh, yeah, keep Pete away from Rian will you, if he turns up. I’d rather we had a full band for the gig. I don’t fancy scraping together the money to bail Rian out either if he punches Pete. I wouldn’t blame Rian though, Pete pulled a real dick move.”

Jack produced a half-smile. The first since he had learnt that Alex was going somewhere without him so close to that evening’s show. Satisfied that Jack did not suspect the real reason he was leaving but concerned over Jack’s sudden need to be with him every waking moment, Alex strode away for his hook-up with Frank. There was, if he was truthful with himself, a twinge of guilt at being dishonest, but the only way to find out what the outcome of the crush on Frank would be was to let it run its course, then deal with the aftermath, whatever that might be. An especially troubling thought that threatened to crop up was, could Alex himself be a serial cheater like Frank, Pete and Brendon?

Jack might have had a point about the area, Alex mused as he followed the map on his phone. He really wished his sense of direction was better. If it had been, he could have memorised the route before venturing out and not have to advertise that he was not a local. This was not New York City, just across the Hudson, where that was normal; this was New Jersey. Still, you do not grow up in Baltimore without learning one or two tricks to get you out of a dodgy situation. Geeze, this crush must be bad, if he was willing to do this just to suck dick, and he hoped, get his sucked in return. The saving grace last time, he lied to himself, was that he had a reason – expressing gratitude to Frank for opening the right doors. This was nothing more than lust; giving in to the infatuation.

Despite taking a wrong turn, Alex found his way to the correct alley unscathed. Looking down the alleyway towards Frank, Alex surmised that he had purposely adopted his pose for maximum effect. It worked. Alex felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach, turning him into a nervous wreck. It might have been funny if it was not so pathetic.

The nervousness evaporated immediately Frank sarcastically questioned Alex’s intentions. Alex was here for one thing only, and he was not taking any chances with being denied. He made his move on Frank, locking lips desperate to taste the man, nicotine and all. When he found himself up against the wall, Alex was unperturbed. He and Jack often switched top and bottom. While Alex would never say that he was sexually submissive, there was something about someone else taking control now and then that was a huge turn-on. That person being Frank only served to stoke the fire.

Frank may have been using one hand to keep Alex in place, but his other hand was going straight to work. No gentle caresses to his chest, or fingertips trailing their way down his torso. Frank had moved directly to Alex’s waistband. Alex felt him begin to undo his belt. Suddenly Frank’s rough kisses ceased; at the same time, he stopped fumbling with Alex’s belt. Instead, Frank drew back, careful to ensure he still had Alex pinned to the wall.

“Undo your belt. Unzip your jeans and push them down” Frank commanded.

Alex complied at once. Hungry for Frank’s touch, he knew it would not be long before his semi turned into a full-fledged erection. Alex could not stop himself from moaning at the first touch from Frank’s hand. As Frank palmed him, Alex noticed a bulge also beginning to form in Frank’s jeans. Instinctively Alex reached out to return the favour for Frank, but he knocked Alex’s hand away with a low growl of disapproval.

Frank’s hand was now inside Alex’s underwear, causing Alex to push his hips up further into Frank’s grip, as more obscene sounds escaped his lips. Frank knew exactly how to tease him - changing speeds, changing the length of his stroke, and running his finger over Alex’s leaking slit. Alex was now wantonly panting and moaning at each stroke.

Unexpectedly though, before Alex reached the point of no return, Frank stopped. By the time he realised what was happening, Alex found himself turned around, so he was now facing the wall. Almost instantly the warm swirling feeling in his stomach changed to a cold, icy dread. Frank was not about to do what Alex thought he was, was he? Alex tried to reason with himself. It was ok, wasn’t it? It was a logical next step in whatever this was between them. But, it was not what he had come here for. It was most certainly not what he had expected.

Alex sensed Frank’s breath on his neck. He felt the weight of Frank’s body as he pressed up against Alex, writhing to get as much friction as possible while his fingernails dug into Alex’s hips.

“Don’t fucking move” Frank whispered gruffly.

Alex wanted to say something; to signal that he really was not up for this. But his mouth stayed glued shut. Something told him that Frank would not stop, even if he begged. Alex’s brain raced. Confusion reigned because there was a part of him that did want Frank to fuck him – just not like this in some dingy back alley. Remorsefully, Alex wondered whether his earlier lustful haste had made Frank think that he had the green light to do anything he wanted?

While all of this was flying around Alex’s brain, Frank had been using his spit coated fingers. Alex let out an involuntary whine as Frank withdrew them. Alex took a deep inhale to steady himself for what was coming next. Another surprise awaited him though as Frank began to push his way in – no condom!

Alex was out of his depth here, and he knew it. In this dirty alleyway in Jersey City, he resigned himself to his fate at Frank’s hands. Somehow, he would get through tonight’s show. Alex was not entirely sure how, but he would not let the others down. Tomorrow was another day, one where he would take stock and re-evaluate what he wanted, what he would do about Frank and Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp! Does Frank get away with this? Does he actually have any redeeming qualities? Well, we'll find out!
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter.


	9. *Chapter 8  Found a complication in your heart *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries to figure out what's wrong with Alex. Alex faces up to the realities of back-alley liaisons with Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Jalex angst for you as we join Jack and Alex in the aftermath of Frank's ongoing bad behaviour!
> 
> I hope I got all the typos and errors in this. If not apologies.

* The next day - Jack’s PoV*  
Jack sat in a booth for two which he had successfully snagged in this busy diner, savouring a mug of coffee. He was waiting impatiently for his short stack of blueberry pancakes - and Alex. There was no denying that there was something off about him. Last night he had forgotten lyrics, stopped playing mid-song, and could hardly keep on key. Sure, they were new to performing live like that, but there was still not a long set with only eight songs in their repertoire when they were not allowed to do covers. Ok, so there was more pressure on the lead singer, especially if he was also a guitarist. Yet it was a pressure, Jack reckoned, that his boyfriend would have thrived on. Alex’s performance at the show was not the only peculiar behaviour. Back in their apartment, Alex had tossed and turned all night, disturbing Jack’s sleep as well, even though Alex had tried his hardest to stay as close to the edge of the bed and as far away from Jack as possible. That was why Jack had left the apartment early, texting Rian and Zack that he and Alex needed some space, and texting Alex directions to the diner. It was not one of their usual haunts; he wanted them to talk without anyone they knew interrupting them.

“More coffee?”

“Uh, oh, yeah. Thanks.”

“Still waiting, huh? Want me to get the kitchen to hold your order?”

“Yeah, please. That obvious, eh?”

The waitress chuckled. “I know relationship issues when I see them. I’ve worked here for too long not to know that look. So many couples have had their deep and meaningful conversations in here over the years. Good luck, Hun!”

Jack managed a weak smile. He withdrew back into his thoughts. This time though they centred on his other problem, Brendon. He was not giving up. If anything, he seemed to be ramping up his efforts. One thing was clear though, Ryan certainly did not appear to mind his boyfriend’s antics. Brendon did not attempt to hide what he was up to, often carrying on right in Ryan’s line of sight. A suspicious mind might even have considered whether Ryan was in on the whole thing, Jack dismissed that idea immediately. If there was no Alex, Jack might have been tempted to go with Brendon’s suggestion. Despite an unusually large forehead, Brendon was attractive, crazy and charming. A one-night hook-up could have been fun, but there was an Alex, no matter how weird he had started acting, and Jack was determined not to cheat on him. 

Would it be too clingy to text him? He had never seen Alex like this before. His Alex was touchy, cuddly; his Alex dreamed of living the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle; his Alex would not have arranged anything so close to a show – it would have violated his need to be overly punctual for things. Jack decided against a text, making Alex feel hounded could make the situation worse. 

A draft of fresh air cause Jack to look up, hoping it was Alex. No such luck, a family coming in for their weekend brunch. Another five minutes passed, during which time Jack’s thoughts flip-flopped between Alex and Brendon, not concluding either.

“Finally,” he huffed.

“Sozz.” Alex leant across the table and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “What’s with this place?”  
“Best pancakes around. An opportunity for brunch, just the two of us.” Jack tried to keep his tone light-hearted.

“Uh huh…um, you ordered yet?”

“Yep, well for me anyway.”

“Ok, er, just let me have a look at the men…oh wow, there’s so much in here. So difficult to know what to get. What’d you order?”

“Blueberry, of course.”

“Should’ve known. Yuk.”

“Yeah, that way you can’t eat mine as well as your own – ha!” Jack’s foot found its way under the table to Alex’s, brushing up against it in a provocative way. It was not reciprocated.

“Hey – don’t distract me.” Alex’s tone was tetchier than Jack had expected.

The slightly awkward moment was interrupted by the waitress, who flashed a knowing smile at Jack.

“What can I get ya?”

“Coffee, please, and, what’s good in here?”

“Oh, it's all good! My favourite is the PB and jelly pancakes. I’ll get your coffee, give you a couple more minutes to make your mind up.”

A grateful Alex smiled back at her before burying his head back into the extensive menu. Silence reigned until the waitress returned with Alex’s coffee.

“Made your mind up, Hun?”

“Yeah, Denver omelette, please but can you make it egg white and fruit instead of toast or hash browns please.” 

Jack made a mental note of the odd choice.

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

After the waitress left, Jack broke the silence between him and Alex. “Did you get any sleep last night, Al? You were so restless.” Jack was deliberately staying away from last night’s performance.

“Just stuff on my mind.”

“That much I got. You’ve been…”

“Been what?”

“Hey! Alex what gives…”

“Sorry, Jack. Just tired, I guess.” Alex flashed an imitation of his infamous disarming smile. Jack was not buying it for a second.

“Bullshit. You’ve been acting strange for a couple of days now.”

“And you’ve not developed some really possessive tendencies recently, have you?” Alex spat back.

Jack could not deny it. This thing with Brendon had made him crave more of Alex, figuring the closer he stayed to Alex, the less opportunity it gave Brendon to approach him, and the less likely Jack would be to succumb to Brendon.

“Look, Jack, I’ve got stuff to work through. How I feel about the way things are starting to take off for us as a band, you know - what it means now that what we daydreamed of might just happen; what that could mean for us.” 

Alex was a terrible liar. Jack always knew when he was not telling the truth. He was lying through his teeth right now. There was a grain of truth in there, but something else bigger was going on too. Jack knew he had two choices, push now or back off. Backing down seemed the best tack for now.

“Sure, I understand. Hey, I have an idea – let’s ditch the others for the whole day. Maybe hop across to New York – just the two of us? No band talk, no relationship stuff, just two friends hanging out together. You in?”

Alex nodded. Not a particularly enthusiastic agreement to Jack’s plan, but an agreement nonetheless. “Give me an hour. Meet you back at the apartment. I have to go do something first.” With that, Alex placed some dollars on the table for his half-eaten food and left Jack sitting alone in the diner - again. Jack hastily threw down enough cash to cover the rest of the bill before heading out to see where Alex was going. Curiosity had gotten the better of sound judgement. Jack soon wished it had not. He saw Alex, hands stuffed into pockets and head down, walking across the road from the diner, past the construction site, and then across another street to a large municipal looking building. Craning his neck up, Jack observed that it was the city’s Medical Center. 

“What the fuck?”

*Alex’s PoV*  
“Well, that’s gonna be the last of my paycheck.” Alex looked down at the form in front of him. He had had not been tested since he and Jack had finally admitted their feelings for one another. He probably could have got this on insurance, but not with the speedy results service he had requested.

“If you’re done with that, go take a seat, and a doctor will call you when they’re ready.”

Alex sloped off, taking a seat right at the back off the waiting room as if he was embarrassed to be there. Damn straight he was embarrassed. Not so badly that he could not laugh at his pun – there was nothing straight about him. However, having to get an STD test because of his stupidity, was rather humiliating.

Text: Looking fwd to doing NYC with you. Anywhere you wanna go? 

Alex really wanted to be alone with his thoughts today, not gawping at touristy things, wedged in with hundreds of other tourists. Honestly, he was unsure he could face a day with Jack considering everything that he was dealing with. Maybe, if he let everything stew in the back of his mind for a day, he would process it quicker. Besides after being such a dick towards him, he owed Jack something.

Text: Nah. It’s all good if it’s with you. xoxo

Cheesy, but until he had his answers, he wanted to be as normal as possible with Jack.

“Alex Gaskarth?”

Crap, he had not yet got his story straight for why he was here. He guessed he would be asked that question and did not want to admit what had happened and make himself look like a pathetic loser. As he stood up to follow the doctor, another text arrived. 

Text: Course I’m clean. What kind of moron do you take me for? Should I be worried about you?

At last, Frank had responded. Alex felt ridiculous for having sent the text, although it was probably something any sane person would do in the situation. He had half expected Frank not to respond, yet he had and was toying with Alex again. Frank knew Alex did not sleep around, that he had only been with Jack in ages, so would be clean. Alex was also highly suspicious of Frank’s answer. He rushed off a one-word answer as he walked down the corridor to the doctor’s office.

“Mr Gaskarth, you’re here for a full STD sweep, correct?”

Alex’s head snapped up from his phone, which he had been watching in anticipation of a response from either Jack or Frank. “Yes.”

“Good. It says here it has been two years since your last test.”

“Er, that’s right. I’ve had a steady partner since then; we got tested together…” Alex began blabbering. He had no idea why he was letting his mouth run away with him. The doctor hummed as Alex continued to explain his situation, his professional manner providing Alex with a modicum of comfort. “…and then things kinda got out of hand. Um, well, er, he ended up fucking me, oh yeah sorry about the language, um without using a condom. He said he’s clean but…”

“Better safe than sorry, eh?”

“Something like that” Alex mumbled.

“Look, it’s not my place to say, but given what you’ve just told me, did you consent to the sex?”

That question. The one for which Alex had no definitive answer. He had gone to the alley to see Frank again. He had wanted a blowjob or Frank to jerk him off. He had not given Frank any indication of his unwillingness to have sex.

“Not exactly, but I didn’t say no either” he admitted. “Even if I had said no, it would still be one of those my word against his situations.” Alex paused as reality set in; the doctor giving him a sympathetic smile as he took the necessary samples. If Alex wanted to do anything about Frank’s behaviour last night, he could not go to the cops. The physical evidence would be gone after the multiple showers he had taken, and Frank would merely say that Alex had made the first move (which he had) and had given consent to the sex (which was muddier waters). Alex did not want to report Frank either, because the realisation hit him like a ton of bricks that, while yes - he loved Jack, Frank had ignited something in him.

“Fuck my life” Alex muttered as he left the clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it, Alex is waking up to the reality of his desires, as is Jack. 
> 
> Will Jack accept Brendon's offer? Is Fralex a thing? Can Jack and Alex be fully open with each other about what's going on? Any thoughts?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter.


	10. *Chapter 9 – We’ll let the fire just bathe us*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank agrees to go go to an old friend's party to spice up his staid and Gerard-free life. We see how Jack and Alex's relationship has developed after Frank. Gerard psyches himself up for working for Bert at a 'small gathering'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no update last week, life got in the way!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter. Even though there a some PoV changes, it really sets us up for the next phases - especially for Frank and Gee. 
> 
> I think that I got all the typos and errors, if not apologies.

*Frank’s PoV - one month later *  
Frank clicked off his phone, smiling. It had been a few years since he had spoken to this old friend. Back in the day, they had been as thick as thieves and usually, as high as kites most of the time. It was all part and parcel of the scene. 

“Be good to meet up with some of the old crowd again. Maybe hit a joint or two for old time’s sake. It’s got seriously stale around here.”

Stale meant that Alex had not backed off. He was still chasing Frank like a lovelorn puppy, sending him texts, leaving messages for Frank to call him asking details about how Frank managed relationships and hook-ups at the same time and trying to get him alone if they were in the same room. Frank was somewhat surprised after the unexpected back-alley sex. He knew Alex would not report it. If he had been even the slightest bit concerned about that he would never have gone that far, even in the heat of the moment. An adrenaline junkie he may be, where sex is concerned, but a reckless idiot taking risks that could end him up in jail – no, only the once, and he was seriously ashamed of himself for having let that go so far. Oh God, the thought hit him, had he unwittingly unleashed a kink in Alex for rough public sex? That caused him to break into a smirk if only Alex would go about getting his fix with other people and not keep pestering him. Well, at least that was what Frank told himself was going on. It fed his needy ego in just the same amount as Alex’s actions pissed him off. There was only one marionette that Frank wanted dancing to his tune, but Gerard had gone to ground. Stale also meant that no-one new and interesting had caught his eye recently. Just the same old faces he had already done or never had any intention of doing.

Jacket, phone and keys in hand, Frank shoved his feet into his favourite sneakers, then headed out the door. His finger hovered for a second over the elevator button for the parking lot, before sense kicked in and instead, he hit the button for the lobby. Chances were he was going to get fucked up tonight. Later he would be in no state to drive back, so there was no point in taking the car.

“Uber! Too far to walk, can’t be bothered walking to the light rail station, besides from memory, I think it’s quite a hike at the other end, and I am NOT taking the bus. It’s only Thursday night, so shouldn’t be too much of a wait” he mused out loud. Thursday had become the new Friday – Frank had forgotten that. He groaned as he looked at the wait time for the nearest cab. Precisely seven minutes and forty seconds later – not that he had been timing it or anything – the cab turned up. Frank sat back and watched the city flash by as the driver weaved his way through the streets to the address Robert had given Frank.

*Local Restaurant – the same time*  
Jack’s hands were sweaty. He kept rubbing them on his jeans, but it was a fruitless exercise. Almost as soon as they were dry, they started sweating again. He sneaked a glance at Alex, who was sitting beside him. He did not look like he was fairing any better. At the risk of getting it swatted away again, Jack placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Alex’s thigh. What he got in return was an encouraging squeeze of his hand from his boyfriend. 

The past month had not been an easy time for them. Things were still going well with the band. They were working on new songs, had more shows coming up, and understood that there would be scouts from some local labels at one of them specifically to find new bands to sign. However, on the personal relationship front, there had been a bunch of issues to work through. The bizarre tipping point came one night when Brendon had made a rare mistake and was still working his pitch with Jack when Alex had come up behind them, silently listening in to the conversation. The ensuing heated discussion between Jack and Alex, mainly triggered by Alex’s guilt over Frank, had led to a series of truth-telling sessions in which both admitted what they had been keeping from the other. Jack, the fact that Brendon was wearing him down and he was beginning to think that a session with Brendon might be a good way to pass the time. Alex had to divulge the whole thing with Frank. It was not just the fact that he had developed feelings for Frank, but also the idea that he, Alex, might just be a little like Frank in needing more than a vanilla monogamous relationship. Alex explained about the STD testing, and that it had come back confirming he was still clean. He even went as far as to tell Jack he was still texting Frank, partly because he wanted someone to help him understand his new-found insights into his character, and yes also to get off. 

So, after much deliberation and soul-searching, they had come to a new place in their relationship. One where they were willing to explore things and experiment together. The idea was no more running off behind the other’s back. Both were nervous about where it would lead, but it appealed to them far more than breaking up, as they were both convinced that they were still in love. So, here they were on a double date, Jack’s suggestion, to test the waters of this latest phase in their relationship.

Across the table from Jack and Alex sat Brendon and Ryan. Brendon had a smug grin on his face. He surveyed the scene before him like a king surveying his loyal subjects as they gathered before him. Ryan looked the picture of innocence. Large brown eyes delicately framed with the merest hint of eyeliner, ever so slightly downcast, not in sorrow or fear, no the word to describe it was - demure. His fingers lazily traced circles around the rim of his water glass. He had the other hand gently resting on his boyfriend’s arm. No-one would suspect that behind that perfectly crafted exterior, he felt the same elation as Brendon that yet again they were going to get what they wanted. Perhaps more than they had originally set out to achieve.

For four people who had been hanging around the same group for several months, the conversation was somewhat stilted. As always, the wait staff managed to alleviate some of the awkward silences by asking for drink and food orders and returning with said drinks or food. The one constant was that smirk on Brendon’s face. He even managed to chew his food with a smirk. Victory had, as ever been achieved. In fact, this might have to go down in the annals of his conquests as one of the greatest. This time his beloved Ryan would be able to watch openly, rather than be a clandestine viewer or make do with the video recording. Oh, the night’s activities would still be recorded for later consumption, but the thrill of the replay would be greatly enhanced knowing that they had both enjoyed the live show. Maybe he would start by getting Alex and Jack together while he and Ryan watched before he would make it a threesome. Involuntarily, he licked his lips and passed it up as not wanting to miss a drop of the delicious pasta sauce. Ryan simpered, showing he knew full well what his boyfriend was thinking about.

Alex studied Ryan. He had never really thought about him before. Maybe he would be a good friend for Jack. Someone that understood what it was like to have what appeared to be a one-sided open relationship. Maybe it was a fully open relationship; just Ryan was more discrete about where else he got his kicks. No matter, there was a model here that seemed to be two people very much devoted to each other, yet willing to understand and work with the other’s sexual needs. It gave Alex hope that, if he could kick the Frank habit (harder to do than it should be), he and Jack really did have a future together. Time would tell, but tonight was the first great test, and Alex so desperately wanted it to work – for Jack as well as him.

*Gerard’s PoV – the same time*  
Gerard was being indecisive. Knowing what to wear was not often a problem. Tonight, it was. A few people were gathering at Jeph’s house, but Bert had also sent him a separate more cryptic text, suggesting that he needed to look good, not just throw on sweats & a t-shirt. In Gerard’s mind, ‘a few people’ was not a party, but Bert’s text had him in two minds. Of course, part of that was the role he found himself in as the hero big brother helping to pay off his brother’s debt to ‘Bert, the drug dealer’, as opposed to seeing ‘Bert, the sleazebag boyfriend’.  
“Michael James Way you are in so much shit right now!” His brother could not hear him, of course, he was now couch surfing at Pete’s, under the guise of keeping an eye on Pete who had fallen into one of his depressive states. No-one who knew how those two behaved when they were together believed that shit. Sure, it would be better for Pete to have someone looking out for him rather than living alone right now; however, it had all the hallmarks of a ruse to disguise the relationship everyone knew the pair of them secretly wanted but never admitted to.

“Well, Mikes, seeing as you’re not here, you can’t lecture me on my drinking habits. So, I think a small whiskey is in order – just to loosen things up a bit before I get to Jeph’s.” Another one lying to themselves, Gerard thought wryly. Small was never in his vocabulary when it came to whiskey, nor was it just to loosen himself up. If his suspicions about tonight were correct, then he wanted to be nicely drunk. In Gerard’s mind, nicely drunk meant not so drunk that he could not do whatever was requested of him but drunk enough that it removed all his inhibitions and reservations. Being hawked out to the odd client of Bert’s now and then was one thing, being passed around at a party like a sex toy was quite another. He knew Bert was capable of doing that, after all, he had watched his fair share of other poor unfortunates be used that way during his time with Bert.

Half a bottle of whiskey, changing into his tightest jeans and a black button down, and a cab ride later, Gerard knocked on Jeph’s door. Quinn opened it, leering at Gerard as he walked past to find Bert. Gerard choked back his disgust. The tone for the evening evidently was as he had feared. 

“Gee, finally dragged your sorry ass over here then?” The tall, lanky figure of Bert McCracken homed into view. He ran his finger down the side of Gerard’s face, with enough pressure that there was almost a pop as it flicked off Gerard’s chin. “Hmm, yup, you’ll do. Go see Jeph about a drink for both of us, will ya.”

Ok, a slow start to the evening. Gerard was not sure whether that was good or bad. Better not to think about it, he advised himself as he ambled through to the kitchen. Just go with the flow and remember why you are doing this. 

“Long time no see! What’ll it be, no let me remember…Yeah, I got it. Very large whiskey no rocks, and Bert’s usual?”

Gerard nodded. If it was going to be a drawn-out evening, then he could keep drinking, so long as he savoured the burning liquid rather than chugging it down in one go. 

“So, what’s the occasion, Jeph?”

“Bert’s throwing a party for his esteemed customers from both sides of his business. Hopes he might, well you know…”

Gerard did know. Bert hoped he could get some of his recreational users to take advantage of some of Bert’s boys and girls, and he hoped that the reverse might happen with those who usually availed themselves of Bert’s prostitutes – which he was now one of, he added morosely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it! What happens next for Frank and Gerard, any thoughts? Is Robert- Bert?
> 
> I will try to make this a double update week, but I'm not going to promise as things are still somewhat crazy.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter, so feel free to hmu.


	11. Chapter 10 – Another Night and I’ll See You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bert's Party - at which Gerard is "working" and Frank is trying to alleviate his boredom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no real surprise that Robert = Bert, but with Frank being the thrill seeker and sexual predator that he is and Gerard being one of Bert's 'boys' will the two get through the evening without seeing one another or is there an awkward meeting?
> 
> I hope I got all the typos and errors in this, if not apologies.

*Gerard’s PoV - later that evening*  
The party was now in full swing. In one room poker was being played, across the whole house the drink and undoubtedly the drugs were flowing freely. Gerard was thankful that Mikey did not appear to be there. Obviously, with the number of people, it was impossible to be sure, but nothing he had seen or heard indicated his brother’s presence. That meant Bert had kept his promise. If a pimp and drug dealer could have a redeeming feature, then Bert’s was that when he made a promise, he stuck to it. So, as long as Mikey kept his side of the bargain and kicked his habit, then the debt could be paid off in cash by Mikey, while Gee escalated the process by paying with his body. It was not like he was unaccustomed to the abuse or being treated like a whore, both Bert and Frank had done that to him. That was different though; they were his boyfriends, not just random guys. Hence, he had started drinking excessively again to take away the shame – but it did not quell the feeling in the slightest. He promised himself that, when this was over, he was going to stop drinking before he became addicted again. Half of him knew it was already too late, but he had stopped once, he could do it again. He was also going to learn to stand up for himself more and develop some self-esteem. Perversely a new strength had crept into his character by taking a stand for his younger brother. Gerard wanted this chapter of both their lives done. Then they could move on.

Miraculously, so far that night Bert had only used Gerard as his own personal runner. There were a few men and women that were there to service Bert’s clients who had already been put to work. As little effort had been made to disguise any sexual activity, it was easy enough to work out who was who, when you saw the same person in compromising positions with different people as the night wore on. Gerard was silently praying to anybody who was listening that his good fortune continued and that he would be required to do no more tonight than what Bert had requested so far, and that it still counted towards Mikey’s debt. There was a slim chance of either of those things coming to fruition, but if divine intervention truly existed then tonight was one time when Gerard needed it to happen.

“Hey, Gee, stop dreaming. Need you to get one of the high rollers another beer. The strawberry blond with no tattoos…Like NOW!”

“Fuck. Yeah, sure, Bert.” Gerard pulled himself back out of his thoughts, pushing his way past people he did not recognise into the kitchen. 

“All done in the cooler and the fridge. You’ll have to go out to the garage.”

“Huh?”

“All the beer we brought into the house has been drunk. The remainder’s out in the garage. Where the fuck is your head tonight?”

“Sorry, Quinn,” Gerard responded. What he really thought as he sauntered off into the garage, emboldened by being “nicely drunk”, was “Asshole, acting like you’re the boss. Bert’s got you on just as tight a leash as me, just you get to waltz around like you’re some big shot, when you’re only the delivery boy and occasional hired muscle.”

“Bring a couple of boxes through, will ya? Y’know, while you’re out there and all.”

Gerard sucked it up, hefting two 12packs back into the house, before extracting one bottle and delivering it to an expectant poker player. He noticed that high roller was sort of a misnomer because they did not appear to be playing for money. But, if it kept the clientele’s egos inflated enough to keep availing themselves of Bert’s services, then Gerard knew Bert would persevere with the flattery.

“Not seeing many of the old faces. Changed the focus, eh? Avoiding the lowlife douchebags in favour of a more affluent, better class of douche instead?”

“Pays better.” Bert monotoned, giving Gerard the decided impression that he had no intention of discussing his business strategy with him. Fair enough, but he was only making conversation because he felt totally like a fish out of water and he could not hide in a corner or make his escape without Bert’s permission. “Go see if Jeph needs a hand with anything. If not, feel free to chill for a bit.” With that, Bert strode off.

Gerard managed to tuck himself away in a corner, slowly working his way through a bottle of beer and a small shot of whiskey, while he engaged in one of his favourite occupations, people watching. The ongoing peep show (pun intended) of society’s moral edges was certainly entertaining. There were so few people he knew; he amused himself by trying to guess professions, ages, backgrounds, and, for those who captured his imagination, making up stories about why they were attending. About half an hour later, Bert reappeared in front of him, hand extended to help Gerard up from his place on the floor.

“Do me a favour, Gee. There’s this guy I used to know from way back. Before we’d even met, I think. He’s never used any of my services before. I know he used to have a voracious appetite for the drugs, a bit like you. I also suspect, from what I hear around the place, that he has a sexual appetite to match. I wasn’t gonna let anyone use the bedrooms for paid stuff, but…this could be huge for me if I can hook him back in. Please go up to the master bedroom. Keep your phone handy; if I get him to agree, I’ll let you know what he’s asked for. You came prepared, didn’t you?”

Gerard nodded stiffly, before dragging himself up the stairs as requested. As unpleasant as the whole situation was, this sounded particularly so. Quite a lot seemed to be resting on his performance; if he fouled this up, Bert would be furious. Not a comforting thought. When the guy entered the room, Gerard was kneeling on the bed exactly as per Bert’s text, facing away from the door. He heard footsteps behind him. Resisting the urge to turn around and peek, he remained as instructed. Despite the ambient noise of the party, the only sound in the room was the two men breathing. Without warning a hand grazed Gerard’s cheek. Teasingly slowly, it traced the exact path Bert’s had earlier. Gerard felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He would know that calloused hand anywhere. 

*Frank’s PoV – same time*  
As the Uber pulled away, leaving Frank outside the address he had been given, he realised this was not the same address as he remembered. Thank god he took the cab, not the damned light rail, he would have still needed to get a ride from the station to this place. He shrugged as he traipsed up the path to the door; why would Robert still be living in the same place, he had moved several times himself since then. It was of no consequence. Well, maybe it was? The large house, was a tad out of place in this neighbourhood, seemingly belonging in one of the more well to do areas, unlike the ramshackle, unkempt, smaller properties that surrounded it. This part of the city had seen better days. It was not exactly a no-go area for the police, but not far off. Cars lined both sides of the street, even parked across neighbours’ driveways, again most of them looked incongruous with their surroundings and the rust-buckets held together with duct tape that sat forlornly on the driveways of one or two of the other houses. It dawned on him that in the years since he had been close with these guys, what had been a minor side-line so that they could feed their recreational habit, might have become a full-time business. 

“Ah, fuck it.” Frank dismissed his misgivings; he was a past master at doing that. “Ok, Robert where are you, you fucker” he mumbled as he barged in through the people milling around the entranceway. 

“Frank! You made it. Welcome.” Jeph exclaimed, slapping him on the back. “What can I get you started with?”

“Um, beer please.”

“Working your way up slowly tonight, huh? Liberty, go grab my man Frank here a beer, and anything else he wants.” Jeph winked at Frank, giving the girl’s ass a swipe as she trotted off towards the kitchen. Frank’s eyes followed her retreating form as far as possible, admiring the view, but it was not for him. He could appreciate the female body; he had even experimented with whether he was bisexual when he was in high school, but no. Women were great to look at from afar, but the whole sex with them thing, not so great. 

“Thanks, er, Liberty was it? Why don’t you get me another couple of those, Sweet Cheeks, then piss off, OK?” Frank smirked at the pouty face he received. He did not know her, did not want to and would never see her again so who cared if he hurt her feelings? What he wanted was to figure out whether there was anyone properly interesting here. But he might as well get drunk, and hopefully high, as he found out. He had the beer to start the drinking, but the high? That needed attending to. Frank swigged down his beers as he scoured the room for any sign of where he could get his fix.

Make sure to pace yourself, Frankie! 

Was that the angel or the demon? If it was his friendly little devil, what else did the mischievous shit have in mind that he should not get too fucked up before? 

Age. Not a youngster anymore. You know – got to make sure we can still get it up. Too much booze and the wrong type of drugs and you won’t be able to perform adequately.

“Oh, shut the fuck up will you!” he exclaimed before he realised that yes, that was his outside voice he heard. Luckily no-one else heard him. So, not weed then, he continued, this time being careful to make sure no sound left his mouth. Never really made me horny, did it? How about …

“Frank, you made it? Jeph said he’d seen you.”

“Robert. Christ, how long’s it been?”

“Too long! One of us got even more bitter and twisted and became “the man.”

“Yeah, and it looks like the other is running some kind of enterprise that a Colombian drug cartel would be proud of!”

“Mmm, I wish, but seriously man, thanks for coming. Got everything you need?”

“Uh, uh. Apart from the booze, what’s on offer?”.

“Still got the crazy then? Glad to see being shut up in an office all day hasn’t completely rammed a stick up your ass.”

Frank guffawed at that. “As if I’d let anyone stick anything up my ass!”

“Touché. Anyways find Quinn. He’ll sort out whatever you need. If he doesn’t, I’ll be around somewhere ready to kick the shit out of him for you until he does.”

“Ahhh, same ol’ sweet Robert. Glad to see some things never change.”

After a couple of hours, Frank had had his fill of everything Bert had to offer, except for one thing. When you were Frank Iero, and you had serious game, why would you ever consider paying for it? 

Because you are bored, fuckwit. 

Frank recognised that slimy voice in his head.

Oi, who you…oh never mind. Yes, I am, he admitted. But I don’t do women, remember, and the dudes all look a bit too skanky for me.

Yeah, but Frankie, you’re bored, you got money if you’re paying … 

That doesn’t give you the right to be abusive, Frank. 

“Fucking hell” Frank muttered. Now his bloody goody two shoes conscience decided to enter the fray.

Like I was saying, Frankie boy, so long as it’s all agreed up front and consensual, then who cares?

Really, Frank? Look what happened in the middle of one of your last ‘consensual’ sessions. I know you were worried for a bit, even if you won’t admit it. 

Was not.

Were too. 

But you got away with it didn’t you, and it was exciting. So, how’s about finding your old pal Robert and seeing what else he’s got to offer?

Needless to say, the devil on his shoulder won the contest. A quick hunt for Bert, an explanation of his requirements, and agreement of a fee later, Frank found himself wending his way up to the master bedroom.

“Better be bloody worth it” he huffed turning the corner on the landing towards the room’s door.

As promised, a red-head was kneeling on the bed facing away from the door, hands clasped together behind their back. There was something eerily familiar about the shape of the body, the way the head was hung in submission, no that was not submission, it was resignation. No, no way. It could not be. He was never… Robert did not know him, did he? Even if they did know each other, why would he be the special prize Frank had just paid an inordinate amount of money for? Oh shit, the drugs again? That new level of broken he had seen in him the last time they had met, was that indicative of a return to addictions? Was that why he had never responded? Why he had left Frank hanging?

Steeling himself for whatever awaited him, Frank kept an even pace as he approached the bed. The closer he got to the other man, the more certain he was it was Gerard. Gently, Frank caressed the side of his face. When his hand reached Gerard’s chin, he whispered, “You can look at me now.”

Was that shock, horror, or shame on Gerard’s face? It mattered not which. Evidently, this was as unexpected for him as it was for Frank.

Please let this be one those few occasions in your miserable life when you do the right thing, Frank, he pleaded with himself. 

“Oh shit, Gerard! I had no idea, er…”

“Yeah, surprised Frank? Me too. So, I guess you’ve paid Bert, so let’s just get this over with.”

Frank slumped down on the bed next to Gerard. “No. Let’s not. But why? How? Since when?”

“Long story, short answer – Mikey. What do we do now if you don’t want me? I doubt Bert’ll refund you just because you don’t like the merchandise.”

That stung Frank, Gerard referring to himself like that. Everything that had him shook about having genuine feelings for Gerard flooded back into his brain. This had to be fixed, even if he and Gee could not be. As always, Frank came up with a plan.

“I don’t want a refund. In fact, Gee, I’m going to pay Bert more, so I can take you away from here. Then we can talk. Yes, don’t look at me like that, I do mean talk, no fucking – not tonight.

As those words left Frank’s mouth, he could feel the little angel on his shoulder doing a victory dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it. Perhaps there is a good side to our Frank after all - thoughts, comment? What happens next? I am so excited for where this goes now with the Frerard - but.....because I love some of the other characters in this too, I'm leaving Frank and Gee hanging for a chapter while we see what's going on elsewhere! So who is up next and what's going on?
> 
> Thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter, so feel free to hmu.


	12. *Chapter 11 – This alone, you’re in time for the show*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which:  
> \- Jack has doubts about him and Alex hooking up with Brendon while Ryan watches.  
> \- Patrick and Mikey end up in a stand-off over who is the best person to watch out for a depressed Pete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay - a weekly update done on time! Not quite a filler chapter as it moves the plot along for some of our other characters, but more of a tease before we see how the situation between Frank and Gerard develops. Still, hope you like it.
> 
> I think I got all the typos and errors, if not apologies!

*Ryan’s apartment at the same time*  
As if there had not already been enough awkward silences accompanied by uncertain facial expressions that evening, another descended. For once, Brendon did not look quite so cocksure. Jack had a vicelike grip on Alex’s hand. Alex was chewing on the skin on the outside of his thumb. Ryan was the only one with a calm, unruffled demeanour. However, even he was not playing the gracious host, making sure that his guests were comfortable and had everything they needed. No, he was ignoring all of them as he stood in the doorway of his bedroom contemplating where to set everything up. 

“Ryro, sweetheart. This isn’t a porno shoot. It’s just four guys having a good time together, right? No need to get all wound up about ‘setting the stage’. I mean I know you want a good view and all…”

Ryan ambled over to a seated Brendon and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Yes, exactly. To get the best possible view of all three of you, I need to make sure that the room is orientated to support that. I can’t remember the last live show I saw like this…without having to pay for it.” At the last part, Ryan lowered his voice until the words were barely audible.

“I see, and when was it that you last saw any kind of live threesome, sweetie.” Brendon’s usual cocky attitude had returned, making sure to speak far louder than was necessary, so that he could tease his boyfriend. “I don’t think Jack and Alex quite heard your mumblings, and I don’t remember being with you at one?”

“Umm,” Ryan was now the one visibly squirming under the amused gaze of the other three. “You know my friend that got married in Palm Springs year before last? His, er bachelor party.”

“So, no pressure then, boys. Got a Palm Springs bachelor party to live up to. My baby needs to get his fix, ain’t that right, Sweetcakes?” It was now Brendon’s turn for the affectionate gesture, as he cupped Ryan’s chin in his hand, before placing an innocent kiss on his lips.

What blood was left in Jack’s face vanished, the realness of the situation hitting him in the face like a brick. 

“Hey Jack, need some circulation left in my hand. I’m gonna need that hand in a bit, can’t imagine it’ll be very entertaining for Ryan if my hand is hanging limply by my side. Jack, no one has to do anything they don’t want, right Bren?” Brendon gave his silent agreement. “If you want to back out now, none of us will think any the less of you. Um…” Alex by contrast to his boyfriend was now tomato red as the next sentence tumbled out of his mouth, his dick by-passing his brain and taking control of his mouth. “You could sit with Ryan and watch Bren and me. What, it’s another option! That would be ok with you two, wouldn’t it?”

Brendon and Ryan vigorously nodded their agreement, cheesy grins spreading across their faces. However, no sound came out of Jack’s mouth, it was wide open with the possibility of a reply to Alex, but no words were actually forming. Alex’s next statement made sure that Jack’s jaw stayed firmly lowered in disbelief.

“We could film it. I mean, phone cameras are pretty good these days. That way you and I could enjoy it together later, then you wouldn’t be missing out.” 

A stifled cackle erupted from Ryan before Brendon could cover his mouth to stop him from blurting out the fact that the whole session was already going to be taped for Ryan’s future enjoyment. 

“Don’t freak him out any further, just yet” Brendon hissed. “Let’s just keep that our little secret. Isn’t that an even bigger turn on, you taping them taping the sex.” The only response he got was Ryan purring as he inclined his head to Brendon’s shoulder, indicating that that thought was indeed arousing.

“Maybe we’ll get another drink for all of us while the two of you sort out what you’re both comfortable with. Beer’s all round?”

“Thanks, Ryan, sounds good.” Jack’s voice had returned, even if he remained pale and had yet to loosen his grip on Alex’s hand. 

It was now Ryan’s turn to murmur, “Leave them be for a couple. Come with me, B.” With that he yanked Brendon behind him to the kitchen, leaving Alex and Jack alone to talk.

“So, babes, what d’ya wanna do? I’m good for whatever.” Alex rubbed his thumb in circles over the back of Jack’s hand. “Seriously, Jack, please let go for a sec.” Jack complied, looking hurt and embarrassed. Alex pulled him in closer, turning so that they were face to face. “I mean it. I know it feels like we’ve talked this thing to death, but the reality is different. Believe me, I know. The trepidation I had the times I met up with Frank, I couldn’t even begin to describe everything I felt in the run-up. But, for me at least, as soon as it starts all of that melts away as the pleasure grows in the pit of your stomach, the butterflies of desire take over, and you go with the flow. Then you find yourself wondering what all the initial fuss was about.”

“But, aren’t you nervous at all, Al? Have you ever had anyone watch? Ever been with more than one person?”

“I am, no and no. Look, maybe this is too much too soon…”

Jack cut him off, placing a finger on Alex’s lips. “Maybe if we started…I mean…just the two of us. It might…well, I guess…I. I want to do this Alex, for you, for us. We agreed, so…”

“Shush, sweetheart, I got this.” Alex leant in, his mouth pressing against Jack’s, his tongue requesting entry.

Hearing that the voices in the living room had stopped, Brendon and Ryan made their way back into the room, sensing that everything had been successfully resolved. They exchanged a satisfied grin as Brendon placed two bottles of beer on the coffee table before grabbing the third bottle from Ryan’s hand, swigging it down almost in one go. Ryan seated himself against the wall opposite the couch, his beer placed carefully on the floor beside him, phone in hand, readying himself for the show. Meanwhile, having discarded his empty bottle on the table, Brendon positioned himself on the couch behind Alex, his head dipping low to nip, suck and kiss the side of Alex’s exposed neck, as his hands snaked around Alex’s hips.

*Pete’s Apartment – the same night*  
“Way to rub it in, Big Bro.” Mikey huffed as he noticed the text message from Gerard flash up on the screen. Defiantly he did not bother to unlock his phone and read the message; he allowed it to sit there, intending to leave his brother thinking it had gone unread. He was not in the mood for another ‘discussion’ about his habit and the mess it had landed them in. Mikey could not refute both the guilt and the gratitude he felt towards Gerard for acknowledging that part of Mikey’s debt had been created to help him. Somehow, the two brothers had never managed to sever the co-dependent relationship that had formed when they were kids, both outcasts, shunned by every clique imaginable at school or any other social arena that their parents insisted they attend. It suited them both, a safe place of acceptance to crawl back to when life slapped them down for the umpteenth time. 

“Pete, can I get you anything?” Mikey peered timidly around the door of his best friend’s room. He heard a grunt from the lump underneath the covers. He had asked out of courtesy, not really expecting any coherent response. “Ok, then. I’m gonna shoot some shit up on the PS4 for a bit – yell if I disturb you, or you need anything.” 

Pete shifted position, nothing but the very top of his head peeking out from under the comforter. Mikey retreated to his bed, the couch, trying to decide which pizza to order from the app on his phone. Anything to take his mind off what his big brother could be doing right now. It was always a disgusting thought that parents or siblings had sex, it was worse having to hear it through thin walls, but worst of all was knowing that someone could be paying to have sex with your brother right now, not because he chose that lifestyle, but because he was saving your ass. Humiliating, much?

Mikey’s anxiety was back under control after his little hospital visit, although the questions as to why despite getting more medication than prescribed the attacks had become so out of control remained unanswered. At least in Mikey’s head, if no-one else’s. Bert was only selling him what he asked for; there was nothing else in those pills was there? 

“Hold on a second” he muttered shoving aside the scary thought about what he might really have been buying from Bert. Although, that thought was immediately replaced by another equally as disturbing. “If I got into this much debt feeding my habit plus 6 weeks supply of painkillers for Gee, how in hell did my brother pay for his old coke and booze habit? Hmm, come on dipshit, not exactly a helpful line of thought. Takes you back to gross images you’d rather not have before eating. Now, what games has Pete got?”

Mikey was rummaging through an enormous collection of games from many eras of the Playstation when the doorbell rang. Expecting it to be the pizza delivery, he grabbed his wallet out of his jacket en route to the door. He opened it to find, not a piping hot box of melting cheese, tomato and crusty base, but a quizzical looking Patrick.

“Hi, Mikey. Um, wasn’t expecting you to be here. But I should have guessed, I suppose.” Patrick’s shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, you should have.” Mikey snapped, although he was secretly elated that Patrick thought he was here in any capacity other than to make sure Pete did not harm himself. It would not hurt to keep Patrick guessing. What right did he have coming around here knowing that one of the reasons that pushed Pete over the edge (his refusal to take his medications aside) was Patrick throwing him out? Mikey did, however, also acknowledged that he might have done the same had he found his girlfriend in as compromising a position as Patrick had done Pete. Even knowing what Pete usually got up to, that dick move he had pulled with Rian had been the final straw for Patrick. “So, what did you come here for? Not like you’ve bothered with him since you threw him out”

“Er, could I at least come in, Mikey?” 

Mikey stood firm in the doorway, blocking Patrick from entering the apartment. Pete was in no state for an unexpected visit from his ex.

“Please, Mikey? Ray said Pete had stopped taking his meds. I know what that means – he’s holed up in there isn’t he?”

Mikey did not relent an inch. “What business is it of yours? I’m here if he needs anyone to take care of him? And for your information” Mikey continued childishly, “he is back on medications, they’re trying to find one that stabilises him without him feeling like an emotionless robot. Haven’t hit the right one yet.”

Mikey was not anticipating what happened next. Patrick stepped up into his personal space. If he had not been so much shorter, his face would have been right in Mikey’s, as it was Patrick craned his neck to glare at Mikey as he jabbed a finger in his chest.

“Have you ever had to take care of someone so depressed that they hardly ever move, only communicate in grunts, and are in permanent danger of trying to harm themselves? Hmm, Way? Well, have you?”

“Umm, try a depressed, suicidal, drug and alcohol addicted brother, Stump.”

The ridiculousness of the argument dawned on them at the same time. Instantly they both stepped back from their antagonistic positions, sheepish smiles appearing on their faces. 

“Christ, this is stupid. Come on in ‘Trick. He’s not left his bedroom for the past three days, exactly as you said.”

“Uh, I know this is rather delicate, but I need to, um, er…”

“Oh, seriously, just spit it out!”

“Are you actually living here? I mean are you two now…”

“No. I’m straight remember” Mikey lied; saving face was the only way to go with this conversation. “I’m broke and homeless too. Refuse to live with the parents and spent too long on Gee’s couch. With Pete being like this, it made sense to crash here for a while, so he’s not alone all the time.” Mikey consoled himself that everything else he said was the truth.  
“I’m sorry. You guys have always been so close. I kinda felt like you were waiting in the wings to sweep him off his feet if I ever screwed things up too badly.”

Now that was unexpected. Patrick had always been the one to throw Pete out when the infidelities and crazy antics became too much. Had Mikey really expected Pete to come crawling back after the finality of that last time. Did he want Pete back now, or was this visit simply salving a guilty conscience? Mikey wasn’t sure how he felt about the thought of reconciliation between Pete and Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how did you like that. What happens next for Mikey, Pete and Patrick? I think we all know what happened next for the other four! ;)
> 
> As ever, thank you so much for reading. I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter, so feel free to hmu.


	13. Chapter 12 - I'm trying to let you know just how much you mean to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Gerard talk about how Gerard ended up working for Bert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies. Another week, another chapter. This one is dedicated to the fabulous Mcrlove4ever, because they are so supportive and comment on practically every chapter - Thank You, the contact with readers means a lot to me! Why this chapter, well it's kind of the real turning point in this whole mess, even though there will still be a few more twists along the way.
> 
> Hopefully I got all the errors and typos. Apologies if I didn't.

*The same night – Hudson riverfront*  
Frank had negotiated a deal with Bert, then called a cab. Now the two men sat as far apart as possible on its backseat, in remarkably companionable silence. Frank wanted to reduce the chance of any of their mutual friends seeing them and either interrupting or jumping to false conclusions. Ever the party boy, he had toyed with the idea of getting the driver to take them through the Lincoln tunnel into New York and find a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, but the atmosphere probably wouldn’t encourage Gee to talk. Instead, he had opted for the waterfront at Weehawken. No one would find them there; it was not exactly a popular destination unless you lived in one of those soulless apartment blocks that now pushed their way into the New Jersey skyline.

“So” he ventured as they seated themselves on a bench, “I have you for the whole night, spill.”

Gerard sighed as he steadied his gaze across the water, mesmerised by the way that New York glittered and shimmered at night. There was a completely different beauty to that loud, brash city when you looked at it from across the Hudson by night. Awkward would have been an understatement. Now he had both Frank and Bert in his life at the same time. One he no longer had any affection for, the other, well ….. yes, Ok dammit, several months later that line he had fed the nurse, as she set his wrist and strapped his ribs, was true. At least as far as Frank was concerned, he was just a sucker who had a thing for short Jersey boys with tattoos. However, he really did not want to have to explain the reality of his situation to Frank. 

“I’m waiting, Gee. I can wait all night if I must. Patience is not one of my virtues, as you well know. But I want to know the truth, so I’ll wait.”

“It’s complicated.”

“What in life isn’t? Come on, Gee four months ago you weren’t whoring yourself around. Why now? What’s it got to do with Mikey?”

“I’m helping…he got…” Gerard swallowed hard.

“Can I take a guess?” Frank was becoming impatient. He would rather hear the story from Gerard, but, if he was right, at least it sped the first part of the conversation up. Gerard nodded, looking slightly relieved. “You’re paying off a debt your brother owes McCracken.”

“Sort of.”

“Go on, enlighten me. I want to hear the details.”

“Well, you know he has panic attacks?” Gee paused for Frank to confirm he recalled that about Mikey. “Well apparently he felt his prescription wasn’t doing enough, so he’s been getting other stuff from Bert.”

Frank had to stifle a laugh. Now was not the time to gloat that Mikey, the supercilious prick who had always been trying to separate him and Gee, had an addiction and owed a drug dealer. “What’s your brother’s problem got to do with you? He’s a big boy – surely he could sort this himself?”

Gerard kept his eyes firmly locked on the view and away from Frank. He knew Frank must be loving the revelation about Mikey. He did not want to see the smirk or similar face that he knew Frank would be pulling. He was still puzzled as to why Frank wanted to talk about it. It was confusing. The Frank he knew would just have fucked him at Jeph’s then probably left without a word. But, maybe there was a truth to the Frank who had asked to try again when he had met him at the diner. The Frank he had been ignoring. 

Gerard’s discomfort was evident to Frank. Determined not to look Frank in the face, twisting his hands, chewing on the inside of his cheek, huddled up against the bench’s armrest as though, if he could, he would sit even further away from Frank. It was not exactly unexpected that the scars of his past both before and with Frank were writ large on Gerard’s body. 

“So, why are you the knight in shining armour for Mikey? I need to hear it, Gee. I need all the details. I get it's not easy, shit especially with me. I know I’m an asshole, but I meant what I said. I won’t lay a finger on you tonight. This is not cool unless of course, you’re happy selling your body. It needs to stop.”

“Why does me paying off Mikey’s debt with my body bother you so much?” Gerard rounded on Frank. “You’re right; your track record doesn’t exactly encourage me to trust you. How many times have you…you know…I mean some clients treat me with a smidgen of decency – you know, more than you did when we were together. Why would you be so sure I don’t want to do this? That this isn’t my new lifestyle choice?”

“Because…” Frank ached to reach out and touch Gee. He actually fucking felt a deep desire to touch him – not sexually - well yes, he did, but right now what he wanted more was to reassure him, to comfort him, to let him know he was with him. Scary as shit. Feelings, emotions and not anger. Oh, there was anger bubbling underneath the surface at Mikey and Bert, but not towards his Gee. Fuck, did he just think of Gerard as ‘his’? All the hair stood up on Frank’s body. Get a fucking grip, Iero, he thought. You don’t do “love” or any of that bullshit. Not now, not ever. But something, somewhere, deep down there was a slither of something contradicting him.

“Because, you know I’m just too pathetic, huh?” Gerard interrupted Frank’s thoughts.

“No. You’re not pathetic. So, is this really the new Gerard, the whore?”

“No” Gerard whispered. “Mikey got himself in too deep with Bert, part of it was my fault, he got me painkillers when the hospital wouldn’t give me anything. I couldn’t let my baby brother do this. I had to give him a chance. How well do you know Bert? He seemed to think you would be a great win for his business.”

“I knew Robert, Jeph and Quinn back in the day when I was in Pencey. We all drank, did weed and shit together. I hadn’t seen them in years until I bumped into another mutual friend a couple of weeks ago who put us back in contact. Robert was always the one that got the drugs, but I had no idea of the organisation he’s running now. I suppose he assumed I would still be as crazy as I was then.” 

“Ok, so Bert has a way of always making the payment’s so much more than the debt. He always did. I…I…tried to keep Mikey away from him. I should’ve spotted the signs. I mean it’s not like I don’t know the signs of addiction, I…”. 

Gerard’s shoulders started to move up and down, his thin body shaking slightly as he turned away from Frank again, too ashamed to let him see him cry.

“It’s Ok, Gee.” The venom was starting to course through Frank’s veins. The pieces of the jigsaw were falling into place. The abusive ex-boyfriend, the old drug and alcohol addictions, the apparent ease with which Gerard had traded sex for drug money all pointed to one person. His old friend, Robert McCracken. Somehow, McCracken was going down. He would make sure of it, even if Gee never trusted Frank or let him near him again. Mikey wasn’t going to get off scot-free either. “Right, er, this is an indelicate question, but how much does Mikey owe?”

“Why do you care? It’s not like you’d save either mine or Mikey’s ass!” Gerard mumbled between sobs.

Frank shrugged. “Guess I’m trying to show you I’m not the monster you paint me as.” He was doing his best not to become frustrated. Gee had a habit of saying things that made him get that way. This time though he could not bite. He started to take some deep breaths. Pausing to think about what he was going to say. To make sure that nothing about his body language showed irritation or any kind of threat. He was aware too that touching Gerard to comfort him was still out of the question. He would be lying if he said it was easy, but hopefully, it would be worth it in the end. “Remember what I said to you in the diner last time we met? I meant that. I didn’t contact you or pester you for an answer after you left me there. I knew that would be the wrong thing to do. So, here I am trying to do the right thing again. I could have just screwed you and left, maybe even asked Bert for it to become a regular thing, but I chose to come here with you instead and listen to how you ended up in this mess. I do care. In my own fucked up way. This is new to me, I admit, so I’m learning this shit as I go. Fuck is it hard, but I’m trying. Please let me help.”

To say Gerard was stunned by that impassioned speech would be an understatement. He was starting to believe that Frank was indeed genuine in his assertion that he was trying to change his behaviour. He was not utterly convinced he could trust him yet though. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and sniffed as he tried to compose himself before angling himself back towards Frank. The words would not come out - well not the ones he wanted. Instead, he spluttered some crap about it being a hopeless situation, that Bert would not allow anyone else to interfere, or that he would in some way decide to raise the astronomical interest rate on the debt again just to keep Gerard working for him.

“At least let me try and help?”

Gerard’s body developed a mind of its own. Although the words would still not form on his lips, he felt himself shift position until he was pressed up against Frank and could lean his head on Frank’s shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” A smile formed on Frank’s face. Now it was alright to touch Gerard. Frank wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gently pulling him in closer then inclined his head so that it lay on top of Gerard’s. It was a strange feeling, to say the least, but the warm glow he felt from this simple act of affection was something he could get used to. “I think that’s enough drama for one night. Let’s get you home. We can meet up again over the weekend to discuss this properly, ok?”

“Uh huh” was the only response Frank got as Gerard wiggled around to get more comfortable.

Frank was as good as his word. Just under an hour later, Gerard was back at his apartment, and Frank was wending his way back to his without making any sexual move on Gerard. His mind, however, was making all sorts of moves. Mentally he was mapping out who was involved in this clusterfuck. 

“Robert, you motherfucker, you are going down for this. I will take out the whole of your organisation, and you won’t see it coming, nor who did it. If it means taking out Jeph and Quinn too, so be it. I’m sure there’s someone else out there that would love to take you out and snap up all your clients. Never underestimate a pissed Italian American from Jersey. I have connections, you know!” He amused himself with that train of thought for a while, hoping no-one had heard him deliberating out loud. Mikey Way, now that was a whole other kettle of fish. Payback was in order, twofold. One for always getting in the way between him and Gee, but also for dragging his brother down. Frank knew Mikey had stood by Gerard during Gee’s addictions, but Frank had never heard that Gee had pulled Mikey into the mess of his addictions with him. The teensy issue Frank faced with Mikey was how close the brothers were. Hurt Mikey, and it would hurt Gerard. A sure-fire way to ensure he lost his Gee forever. More thought required.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it for you? Can Frank really do what he claims? How is he going to solve the Bert problem?
> 
> Another piece of fluffy, Frerard relationship fixing for you next week.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter, so feel free to hmu.


	14. *Chapter 13 – Take my fucking hand*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Gerard discuss what happens next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say, so let's get right into it. I think I got all the typos and mistakes. If not, then I apologise.

*Sunday Brunch at a local diner – Frank’s PoV*  
“We’re not fixed you know? I…I…I’m, well I can’t just…Bert’s not exactly gonna roll over and let it go.”

“I already told you, Gee, leave Bert to me.” Barely able to restrain his exasperation, Frank drummed his fingers on his mug. Giving Gerard two days to think about things had been a dumb move. Thursday night he had had him in the palm of his hand – somewhat. Frank had even acquiesced to his better self and behaved like the perfect gentleman. That was, at least in front of Gerard, who did not need to know that Frank had jerked off when he got home. Frank had been buzzed on the thoughts of revenge and all the things he desired to do to Gee when he actually got his hands on him again.

“What I still need from you…um, sure. Please, that would be great.” Frank nudged his mug to the end of the table for a refill, willing their server to disappear as quickly as he had appeared with that steaming jug of heavenly liquid. “As I was saying, how much? So far, I mean.”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure what it started out at, but it seems just to keep going up.”

“How long has Mikey had this habit?”

“He won’t tell me.”

Frank’s eyes wandered to Gerard’s hands as he absentmindedly stirred his coffee, the discomfort of the situation clearly driving the action. Gerard took neither milk nor sugar in his drink; there was nothing to mix in.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? It’s the daily interest that’s crippling us. Bert levied it from the day Mikes stopped being able to pay upfront, but he still let him buy shit until he decided to call in the debt. But, I still don’t know why you’re bothering?”

“You. Plain and simple.”

Gerard looked up at Frank. There was a distinct dissonance between the words coming out of Gerard’s mouth and the look in his eyes. If they had been sat on the same side of the booth, Frank reckoned that the way that Gerard’s body would interact with his would indicate a need for physical closeness to Frank as it had done a couple of days prior. In fact, Frank was counting on it. His mind was churning trying to find an innocent way to create the closer proximity of their bodies. 

“If we’re just going to end up back in the same place where I find myself in the ER because of you – that’s bull!”

“Fucking hell. Look, how many more times do I have to tell you, I’m trying to make amends. I’m even seeing a therapist for you.”

“Do that for yourself, Frank. Not me.”

Now was not the time for another cartoon show angel vs demon fight. Frank would not allow himself to go there. An angel he would never be, but if he wanted Gerard’s trust back, he could not be the demon. That part about winning Gerard’s trust back was untrue. Frank was uncertain as to whether he had ever had Gerard’s trust. What was certain was that at this point there was little to no trust, and he had to gain some. What infinitesimal amount he might have earned on Thursday had been frittered away in leaving Gerard space to overthink things. Frank wanted to barter his way into Gerard’s trust. Frank wanted to make a deal with him that if Frank got the Way brothers out of this hole unscathed, Gerard would give them another chance. However, the deck was stacked against Frank with the more likely outcome being that his shot at a deal would backfire still leaving him without Gerard in his life. That was when, to add to the fun of the situation, Alex rang him.

“I, er, better take this. Sorry. Hi Alex, what the fuck do you want?”

*Gerard’s POV*  
Bemused, yes that was the word bemused, baffled and bewildered. Once a predator always a predator. Why was it that one part of his brain was going through all the possible angles that Frank could be playing here, while another part was nervously waiting for the full-on display of lost temper and the threat of violent physical contact, while yet another was desperate to be as bodily close as possible to Frank. That animalistic part of him needed to run his fingers over Frank’s skin, tracing the tattoos that littered it; that part craved the smell of body wash, deodorant and Frank, a heady cocktail that never failed to start a reaction in his pants; and it longed for the sensation of Frank’s lips nipping and sucking his way down Gerard’s torso.

“No, problem, Frank” he mouthed, conscious not to let Alex know Frank was with him. Why that mattered, Gerard had no clue. But it did. What the hell was Frank still doing with Alex anyway? A nauseous feeling began to make its way from the pit of his stomach to his throat. With an apologetic half-smile, he gestured towards the restroom. Safely ensconced in the cubicle, Gerard started to breathe again. None of this was doing anything to remove the confusion. Gerard had assumed that Alex was another pretty fuck boy that Frank would have fun with for a couple of quickies and then throw away because he was not enough of a doormat for Frank. Could it be that Gerard had read Alex wrong? Was the kid another of the low self-esteem Frank Iero fan club? More to the point, if Frank and Alex were a thing, then why was Frank seemingly so determined to get him and Mikey out of Bert’s clutches? Not for old time’s sake? Surely not. An attempt at an apology? Possibly. Still did not make sense though, it was so out of character for Frank. The one bizarre option staring Gerard in the face was the most ludicrous of the whole lot. Frank was genuinely attempting to change, truthfully felt something for Gerard other than lust and disdain and hoped that they could build a ‘normal’ caring relationship between them. 

“Come on buddy, whatcha doing in there? Other people need the facilities too!” 

“Oh, yeah, er sorry. I’ll be right out.” Keeping his head down, he unlocked the door and tried to scoot out without making any form of eye contact with the stranger. Who knows what they thought he had been doing in there?

Frank’s face had an unusual look to it as Gerard slid back into his seat - relief. 

“Glad to see you didn’t run out on me this time.” Frank chortled. “I truly am sorry about taking that call. But I appear to have become an all-round Mr Nice Guy; I have people coming to me for relationship advice.”

It was now Gerard’s turn to laugh. “I think I misheard you there. Did you say relationship advice?”

“Hard to believe I know. Well, er, it’s sorta true though. That’s exactly what Alex wanted to speak to me about.” 

Frank paused as he took a breath. Gerard wondered what the punchline was going to be. It had to be good; Frank did not often add dramatic pauses into his stories. The punchline did not come. The break felt like there was more to be said. Did he press Frank for the withheld information, or innocently change the subject? Whichever kept calm Frank was the winner, but which was it? As the silence hung in the air between them, Gerard scanned Frank’s face for a clue. He might as well have flipped a coin because he could not make out what it was Frank had stopped talking for. With a mind of its own, Gerard found his mouth opening and heard himself asking Frank to go on as if he were observing their conversation from behind a two-way mirror. The answer he got was nothing like he had expected.

“He was getting me up to speed on how his “double date” with Jack, Ryan and Brendon had gone.” Frank used the air quotes around double date, indicating that there was more at play than just going out for a drink or movie as two couples. 

“Ohhhhh.” The significance of those air quotes was not lost on Gerard. “But…hold on…you’re telling me, Ryan…shit!”

Frank nodded. “Not so innocent, our sweet little Ryro.”

“But, you and Alex. I mean I know you and him er…”

Gerard looked at Frank expectantly. This was a test. Would he be honest and admit he had fooled around with Alex, or would he brush it off?

“Yes, we have.”

“So, what is he to you?” Crap, Gerard thought. How in the hell did that squeak out? He sounded like a clingy, jealous boyfriend. Oh, to hell with it. It was risky given Frank detested anything that hinted at possessiveness, but he had said it and could not take it back. Frank’s answer would be another clue as to how genuine he was being. Except that, of course, Frank was a past master at manipulation. 

“A good time until it gets boring for both of us.”

That was truthful. Hope started to take root that something might be possible between them. “Well, that’s an honest response. Thank you.” 

“It’s not as if you didn’t know about the strength of my libido, now is it? What use would it be pretending I’m living like a monk? You’d never believe that.”

Gerard smiled, for the first time consciously relaxing in Frank’s company. “True, I wouldn’t.”

“Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“Swearing that you were going to therapy, for me. Begging me to let you help Mikes and me out with the Bert problem.”

“That was a rhetorical question, you know?”

“Uh huh. Doesn’t hurt to state the facts though. The more I hear them, maybe the more I might start to believe them.” What had started as a sassy exchange, became less confident and more dispirited. It was all too remarkable to be true. His luck was never this good.

Frank appeared hurt. A ruse? Another attempt to yank Gerard’s strings and get his way? 

“What’s it going to take to change that mind of yours?”

“Tell me what it is you want from me. Truthfully. No games, no exploitation. In all honesty, other than Mikes and our grandma, no-one has ever done anything for me and not want to collect on it. You’ll forgive me if I’m super sceptical that you would help us out with no expectation of anything in return. I’m not that lucky!”

“Believe me or don’t, Gee. It’s the truth. I am going to find a way to help you. If you can’t find it in you to give us another chance, I am still going to help.” Frank’s voice had lowered and softened by the time he had finished speaking. His gaze held steady, eyes locked with Gerard’s. Nothing in his mannerisms indicated to Gerard that he was being anything other than honest.

Gerard’s heart quickened in his chest. A fluttering started in his stomach. There was no doubting that once again, his body had a mind of its own. There was an intuition there that differed from his rational conscious thoughts. His body brought out an inkling of something different, something that he had never dared to hope of having before with Frank. A relationship of equals. One where they cared for each other, supported one another and grew together as a couple. Gerard longed for this to be real. He slid his hand across the table, palm upwards, indicating that he would like Frank to place his hand in Gee’s.

Maintaining his scrutiny of Frank’s face for any sign of smugness, Gerard sighed “Ok, so what’s the plan?”

Now the arrogance appeared as Frank’s fingers curled around Gerard’s hand. “Let’s not talk about that here. I know people. I have ways of getting at Robert …”

“But, I need to know that you’re not putting yourself or Mikey in harm’s way. This situation with Bert has caused enough mental and physical anguish already.” 

A look of concern materialized on Gerard’s face. Not trepidation that he was worried for his brother’s well-being, that much was never in dispute. No, the nervousness was that he was coming on too strong and giving away the depth of his feeling for Frank. Deep-seated fondness and tenderness that hardly seemed appropriate given the history between him and Frank, possibly you could even call it love? With how Frank had always treated him, Gerard knew he should never have fallen for Frank as hard as he had, but he had. The thought occurred to him that, as these feelings had not gone away after Frank’s vicious attack on him and their time apart, it was conceivable that they were not going away any time soon. Perhaps it would be healthier for him to admit them than keep them swallowed down, eating away at him every time he saw Frank.

“I can’t guarantee that, Gee. Nothing in life is certain, except death. Tell you what, why don’t you and Mikes come to mine Tuesday, after work, and I’ll talk you through the plan. That’ll give me some time to talk to my guys and start setting things up. With that Frank slipped out of the booth, dropping some cash on the table for the cheque. He leaned in towards Gerard and placed a sweet, delicate kiss on his cheek before turning swiftly away to the diner’s exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any guesses about what Frank's plan is? Find out in the chapter. It might actually surprise you!
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter, so feel free to hmu.


	15. *Chapter 14 – Can we settle up the score? *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Gerard and Mikey learn Frank's plan for getting them out of Bert's clutches - and no, there's no mafia connections being revealed here. (Sorry, not sorry!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. Life got in the way! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter and the little surprise cameo appearances by one of Frank's friends.
> 
> I think I got all the typos and errors in this, if not - apologies!

*Frank’s apartment the following Tuesday evening *  
Frank had come to a decision. It was an easy one to make, even if it was not the most comfortable. He so badly wanted revenge on Mikey, but he had to exercise restraint, hence the either/or options he had landed on. As much as the “or” option would be amusing, finding ways to humiliate Mikey would not get him in Gerard’s good graces, he would sacrifice the satisfaction of debasing Mikey for the pleasure of having Gerard back.

The look on Mikey’s face as he and Gerard had entered Frank’s apartment was priceless. Evidently being dragged there was that last thing he wanted to do. Frank was content that if Gerard consented to try again, it would be enough payback for Mikey to know that it was Frank who was the author of the Way brothers’ escape from Bert’s machinations.

“How’s Pete? I gather you’re staying at his now.” Mindless small talk, not his thing, but necessary for civility and wasting time.

“Yeah.” Mikey deliberately dodged the living with Pete jibe. “He’s only coming out of his room when he has to, like for doctor’s appointments or to piss.”

“Only ever known him to be like this once before. He decided that meds were a dumb idea because he had had a bad break-up with some girl he thought was the love of his life. Took months before we got the life and soul of the party Pete back; helped along by admitting he preferred guys and then finding Patrick. You know,” Frank goaded, wanting to rub Mikey’s nose in the whole Pete and Patrick are soul mates thing, “I always thought that Trick would man up and stop this throwing Pete out then begging him to come back crap. Guess not. Pity because they are so good for each other. I mean we all know Patrick’s an insecure princess, but I didn’t pick him for another one of the selfish-asshole gang.”

“Patrick is helping out” Mikey snapped. “He’s there for Pete just as much as I am. Now, as touching as your concern for Pete’s well-being is, can we cut the crap and you tell us your plan?”

“Patience, Michael. It’s a virtue, don’t you know?”

“Quit being a dick, Iero. Do you have a plan or not?”

“You don’t get to call the shots. You fucked up. Am I right, Gee?” 

Gerard nodded. 

“If,” Frank continued” I want to have a civilised conversation about mutual friends before dealing with your shit, then I will. Now, what can I get you both, tea, coffee, beer?”

“Coffee, thanks.”

“Beer, please. I think I’m going to need it, or something stronger.”

“Ok, one coffee and one whiskey chaser coming up.” As Frank sauntered into the kitchen, he muttered “ungrateful little shit!” Mikey’s attitude was grating on him. True, Frank was doing this for Gerard, not Mikey. True, Mikey hated Frank and with good reason. However, without Frank’s intervention, it was going to be a long time before they cleared the debt to Bert, even with Gee selling his body – a feature of the deal the brothers had made with Bert that Frank could not live with. It irked him that, if Gerard chose to turn him down, Gee would eventually be with other guys of his own volition, but him turning tricks to save his brother’s skin, now that made Frank sick to the pit of his stomach.

Once again, the strength of his feelings towards Gerard caught Frank off guard. “Yes,” he murmured to his guardian angel, “I admit it, I think I could be in love him.”

Out of the corner of his mind’s eye, Frank thought he saw the angel perform a little fist pump, while his guardian demon facepalmed in despair.

“Here we go. Coffee, creamer, one sugar - right, Mikey? Rad. Gee, there’s yours. I’ll get myself something and then we’ll…aha. Hey, Gee, could you grab me two beers while I answer the door, please?”

“Mikey, Gerard, this is James.” Frank introduced a dark-haired, non-descript looking man to the brothers. “He’s a state trooper. Don’t look at me like that, both of you! I can’t help it if I have friends in all the right places. James, fill these two in, will you?”

“Hi, Mikey and Gerard, right? Frank tells me you could have some information for us on a drug and prostitution ring. Is that correct?”

Mikey and Gerard exchanged a look; one that said, is this guy for real? But neither spoke.

“Sorry, guys, but I do need confirmation from you on this one.”

Frank was hopping from foot to foot beside James, shooting daggers at the brothers. “C’mon. D’you want to go on living like this? The pair of you” he huffed. “Don’t make me look like a total dickwad for wasting James’s time.”

Mikey shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Gerard adopted his no self-esteem, 'I’m a worthless bag of crap' pose.

“It’s alright, Frank. I’m used to handling situations like this. Can you give me a few minutes alone with Mikey and Gerard? They might be more comfortable opening up without you around.”

“But I know the whole story anyways. It's not like they’ll be telling you anything I don’t already know.”

“If you know it all, then you don’t need to hear it again. So, fuck off.” James chuckled as he tried to shoo Frank out of the living room.

“Ok, point taken. I’ll be freezing my butt off smoking on the balcony.” Gerard looked up expectantly at the mention of cigarettes. “No. You’re in this neck deep. You stay here.” The balcony door slid open, and a disgruntled Frank stepped through into the cold night air.

James turned his attention back to the two men sat on the couch. “Now we’ve got rid of the little pest, are either of you going to talk?”

“Why d…don't you start, Mikes?” Gerard placed a supportive hand over his brother’s which were clasped in his lap.

“Great, go on Mikey.”

It took an hour for both Way brothers to tell what they knew, during which time Frank had come back and forth several times from the balcony ostensibly for a jacket, getting more drinks for everyone, and a bathroom break, but really to eavesdrop on what was going on.

“Frank, do that one more time, and I will bust you for interfering with a police investigation.” 

Frank stuck his middle finger up at James as he pulled the door shut behind him.

“I really appreciate what you’ve told me. I’ll feed it back into our guys in Vice and let them take it from there. I can’t make any guarantees, but they will likely offer you both anonymity and immunity, especially you Gerard as you’re actually part of the organization now.”

“Shit, Gee! I never realised that…” Mikey gasped turning to hug his older brother.

“It’s ok, Mikes. I knew exactly what I was getting into. Anything to keep you safe. It’s not like I matter anyway.”

James pulled a stunned face but did not make any comment, simply motioned for Frank to join them again.

“Ok, short stuff, I’ve got what I need. We’ll take it from here. Keep your nose out, Frank. I mean it. I know what you get like when you lose your shit” James cautioned.

Frank rolled his eyes. As if he’d manage that! If someone needed their ass kicking because they’d messed with Gee, he would do it without batting an eyelid. Mikey on the other hand - meh. He escorted James out, then returned to his slightly shell-shocked guests.

“You go on ahead, Mikes. I can make my own way home. You have to go in the wrong direction to take me back to mine anyway,“ Gee suggested, holding out his hand to help Mikey up from the couch, undoubtedly wanting to break up the tension in the room, or get Frank to himself. Frank knew which of the two he wanted it to be.

“Be careful, Gee.” Mikey glowered at Frank over Gerard’s shoulder as the brothers hugged goodbye.

“See you soon, Mikey!” Frank shouted sardonically as he bumped the door shut. “Now that I have you all alone” he whispered, “whatever are we going to do?”

“Not what’s on your mind, that’s for sure!”

“Spoilsport. I never got my money’s worth the other night, so I thought maybe now would be the ideal time…” Frank winked, a lascivious smile on his face, as he ran his hands down his body, stopping for a heartbeat at his crotch, before collapsing onto the nearest chair snickering. “Ha, you should see your face” he managed to squeak out between giggles.

“Asshole.” A throw pillow landed on his head, quickly followed by the rest that usually adorned the couch.

“Seriously, if you’re not thinking what I’m thinking, then what is on your mind, Gee?”

“Fetch me another beer, and I’ll tell you.”

Frank sat upright, a serious look replacing the laughter. “Not sure that’s a good idea, for either of us. You know neither of us handles our liquor that well, and you’ve already had two chasers tonight. Reckon that should be enough Dutch courage, even for you.” 

Frank had only been half fooling around. He so wanted to pull Gerard close to him and taste every inch of his body, satisfy the raging lust that proximity to Gerard had always created. He was still in control enough to know that now was not the time to go there. He was still waiting for an answer about their relationship. Hook-up sex, for old time’s sake, would only destroy the trust he was working so hard to generate. 

“How does a really strong coffee sound?”

“Not equivalent, but … if it is all that’s on offer, I’ll take it.”

Gerard followed Frank through to the kitchen, leaning on the cluttered counter as Frank began making yet another pot of the black, insomnia-inducing liquid. Frank hummed as he measured out the grounds and topped up the water reservoir, filling what would otherwise have been a pregnant silence between them.

Frank watched Gerard’s lips open, then close again wordlessly. Turning his back on his guest, he fiddled around to find two clean mugs. He would give Gerard the space he needed to say whatever was on his mind. Keeping himself busy and focused on other things should, Frank reasoned, prevent him from becoming frustrated and the anger that generally followed. He wished that Gerard would find his voice quickly though because continuing to find things to do to stay calm was going to become difficult soon without seeming rude.

“Er, I was wondering, like, would you. Shit, why is this so difficult?” Frank watched as Gerard ran a hand through his hair, chewing at the left-hand corner of his bottom lip.

“I don’t bite. Well, not unless I’m fucking. Seriously, dude, come on! Whatever you have to say can’t be that shocking. I figure that with our chequered past there isn’t much that…oh” Frank hesitated. Was it coming? What he knew deep down he deserved the brush off. A polite, ‘thank you for helping, but I will never be with you again’. Gerard wouldn’t friend-zone him like this? Would he? Frank’s heart leapt into his throat. An unexpected lump forming there, as his throat constricted. He could even hear the pounding of the blood pumping through his veins. This, this was what rejection felt like? Fuck, it sucked.

“Yeah, I know, it’s stupid, but it feels weird. I’m not used to taking the initiative. You know I usually let myself get pushed around by everyone else.”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything. You can even reject James’s help. Although, now he’s heard more about Bert’s operation from you guys, it's only a matter of time before the police get to it on their own. You do realise what that means if you’re still one of Bert’s whores then and refused to cooperate when you had the chance.”

“Low blow, Frank.” Gerard pouted. “If that was meant to make things easier – it didn’t!”

“All I did was point out that you have complete free will. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, and I knew someone that could help.”

“Yeah, and there was me expecting a mafia hitman, not some legit state trooper!”

“Shush, just because I’m Italian and from New Jersey doesn’t automatically mean I have connections in the Cosa Nostra. I have to admit I’m slightly offended, Gee.” Frank pulled the best ‘I’m offended’ face that he could muster while maintaining a straight face.

“Sure doesn’t. I have some Italian Catholic blood in there somewhere, and I know we aren’t mafioso.” The tension in Gerard’s voice eased. “Ok, here goes nothing!” 

Gerard walked around the counter and leant up against the fridge with a nonchalance that surprised Frank. How could he be so at ease with crushing Frank’s dreams of reconciliation? 

“Thank you for doing what you have. It is a huge deal for me, and I know to Mikey too, even if he is being an asshole about it. It won’t be easy for him accepting help from you. It’s no secret what he thinks of you.” 

Frank guffawed, “No shit, Sherlock. Sorry, go on, Gee. What do you want to say?”

“So, I’m not ready to say yes or no to you yet. I can feel that there is still something between us, I want to be able to say yes, but not yet.” 

Before he could stop it, Frank felt his face fall, and the disappointment show on his face.

“Hey, I said ‘not yet’, not ‘no’. Funny, me being the one to counsel you, eh?” Gerard did not wait for an answer. “Let’s go out to dinner. We can talk things through. I know we have done nothing but talk the past week, but I thought perhaps we could talk seriously about what happens if I say yes.”

“You mean, like, ground rules?” A glimmer of light appeared at the end of the gloomy hole Frank had dived into a couple of minutes earlier.

“Yes, if you like.”

“Ok. I never thought about that before. I guess we can give that a go.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up Friday 19.30”. With that Gerard pushed up off the fridge, clutching his coffee to his chest and wandered back to the couch. “Now that’s over with, tell me more about you and your new relationship counselling business. I still can’t believe anyone is coming to you for advice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who would have thought it - Detective Dewees? At least he's got the measure of our Frankie huh? Any thoughts as to whether Frank can really keep his nose out of this?
> 
> Until next time - no promises as to when with the Holidays coming up and life still kicking me in the proverbials.


	16. *Chapter 15 - To wage this war against your faith in me*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Frank and Gerard are supposed to meet at Frank's then go out for dinner to discuss the new ground rules for their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears. Yes, I am finally back and in the land of the vaguely sane. Hopefully now we should have regular(ish) updates all the way through to the end, which is coming into view now (5 chapters and an epilogue after this).
> 
> This is a follow-on from the last chapter, where Gerard agreed to give Frank another chance providing he agreed to some rules. Can Frank & Gerard agree the new ground rules for their relationship? Let's see shall we?
> 
> I think I got most of the typos and errors, if not apologies.

Friday Night - Frank’s PoV  
Frank wrapped a towel around his hips, shaking his head like a wet dog to remove the excess water from his hair. No need to waste a towel on it. He stared at his reflection – not bad considering the bitch of a day he had had. He knew it would not do any good to dwell on what had gone wrong at work, but that did not stop him from going back over the day.

“Assholes” he muttered reaching for the deodorant. “How fucking difficult is it to follow a detailed product specification.” 

Frank grimaced as he recalled how his boss had chewed him out over the delayed product launch – ‘Guess, we best leave it to the vultures in the legal department now’. 

“Shit!” He thumped the vanity unit. “Today of all fucking days!”

Tonight was going to be strange enough, not being in full control as he discussed guidelines for a relationship with Gerard. “Why am I going through with this?”

“Because you love him.”

“Because you’re turning into a pansy!”

“Yeah, I get it. I do, and I am. Now, both of you shut the fuck up.”

“Nu-uh. Not until you realise what you’re giving up by going all soft. For Christ’s sake, Frank, you even let Alex push you around earlier. Why in the hell did you let him turn the tables on you?”

For a second Frank contemplated whether he was insane, holding one-sided conversations with the good and evil sides of his sub-conscious. Everyone has those nagging little conscience things, don’t they?

“You should know,” Frank grumbled, “how that suits my purposes. If I help him grow and understand himself better, it helps get him off my back. D’you want him clinging all over me? ‘Cause I sure as shit don’t. The hook-ups are great, but not this constant needy crap. Now, piss off and let me get ready for dinner with Gee.”

“Ha, yeah, you showered to get the sex smell off of ya before you get to the next one. You ain’t fooling me, buddy.”

“Now, Frank, remember this is not a date…”

“You really gonna listen to ol’ goody two shoes?”

“Pack it in the pair of you.” Yes, Frank decided, he was totally starting to lose his marbles. Glancing at his phone, he saw that it was almost 19.30. Thank God Gerard was always late.

Over an hour later and Gerard had still not shown up. Frank checked his phone again for a call or text that he had somehow missed. He had not. This was so unlike Gerard. Late, often, but he always turned up. He was not paying Frank back for all the times he had been late or stood Gerard up, was he?

“Nah, not his style.” Frank went back to scrolling through social media on his iPad, trying to keep his mind off why Gerard had yet to arrive. A knock on the apartment door brought him back to reality. Frank had not moved so fast in years. Opening the door, he instantly wished he had taken a bit more time and composed himself. A bruised and bloodied Gerard was propping himself up against the doorframe. 

“Holy shit…who…what…Crap, get in here!”

“Hey, it is nothing. Been worse.”

“It is not ‘nothing’, and as I know that this time, I am not the douchebag that beat you up, WHO DID?”

Gee, now seated on the couch, looked up at him and shook his head.

“Don’t do this, Gerard. Tell me who. Do the police know?”

Again, Gerard shook his head, but his gaze had reverted to its more usual spot, his lap where he was wringing his hands with nervous energy.

“Talk to me” Frank commanded, not knowing whether it would be ok to touch Gerard to try and comfort him. Gerard remained silent. “Ok, I’m guessing it was Robert, one of his goons, or was it a client? Don’t fucking deny its related to that motherfucker” Frank snarled as Gerard went to shake his head once more.

Frank crouched down in front of Gerard, his blood boiling as he cupped Gerard’s chin. “Unless, of course, you’re telling me you got mugged?”

Finally, Gerard opened his mouth. “No, I wasn’t mugged.”

“So?”

Gerard’s eyes remained downcast, as he took the time to form an answer. “It was Quinn. I…I…told him I couldn’t work tonight, and he went off on one.”

“Does Robert know he did this?”

“I…I don’t know. Please, Frank, just leave it.”

There was no way Frank was going to ‘just leave it’. Some motherfucker had hurt Gerard. That could not go unpunished. Sense, reason, playing it nice could all go to hell. He needed to retaliate, now. 

“Where is the little fucker?”

“Please, I said I leave it,” Gerard pleaded.

“I can’t; someone hurt you. They hurt you because of me. I’m gonna kick the living shit out of him, Robert and Jeph too.” The cogs were whirring now. Realisation dawned that this was how Mikey must have felt, seeing Gerard after Frank had lost his shit at him and then done all his talking with his fists. No wonder Mikey hated Frank. However, that new level of understanding was not going to deter him from wreaking havoc on Quinn, as his first port of call. He was not that much of a pussy, yet.

*Gerard’s PoV*  
His day had gone surprisingly well — no fuck-ups at work. He had even got out of there on time without Lisa bitching at him to finish something that she ‘just had to have for a meeting first thing Monday’. 

Then as he stepped out of the shower, it hit him, “Fuck. I never told Bert I wasn’t available tonight.” A welcome hangover from their past relationship, Gerard could choose when he worked. Although, as Friday nights were usually one of the busiest, he nearly always worked them, which helped to pay down Mikey’s debt quicker.

Gerard ran to the kitchen, where he last remembered discarding his phone. Thankfully the only things on the phone were a text from Mikey about some do at their parents the next weekend and a missed call from an unknown number.

“So far, so good. Crap I need a cigarette. Why did I promise myself I wouldn’t drink tonight?” Gerard opened the fridge staring longingly at the 6-pack of beer in there. His eyes then wandered to the bottles of whiskey and vodka sitting on top of the fridge, taunting him.

Why someone who knew they easily slipped into drinking too much, kept so much booze around was a conundrum. To some people it would seem like idiocy, surrounding yourself with temptation. Gerard admitted that it might appear that way, but oddly the permanently half-drunk bottles on display generally had the opposite effect on him. If he stashed them away, it was as if they yelled at him, luring him in, becoming irresistible. Well, that was what he told himself. Even if it was bullshit and he knew the reality was he only had two modes - drink everything in sight or drink nothing, the lie made him feel better.

“C’mon Gee, you need all your wits about you with Frank. He’s a crafty little fucker. Ground rules only tonight, if you’re drunk you know you’ll cave when he starts messing around.”

An unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, Gerard wandered into his bedroom. He rummaged through shirts, t-shirts and sweaters, before going back to the pile of clean shirts and selecting a black button-down. He was taking so much time, putting such a great effort into getting ready that you might be forgiven for thinking that he was getting ready for a hot date.

The problem was, there was a hot date or two being lined up for him. Just not with Frank. A sheen of cold sweat formed on his freshly showered body when he heard Bert’s ringtone.

“Hey, Bert.” Gerard kept his tone bright and friendly.

“Need you to do a couple of privates tonight. Both in Hoboken. Fancy places, so dress nice.”

“Erm, about that” Gerard interjected, his voice rising to a higher pitch. “I…I…know I should…should…should have said earlier, but I…I…I have a prior engagement. Can…can…can you get someone else to cover?”

Gerard heard a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line, followed by an ominous cackle.

“Too fucking right, you should’ve said something! Ok, but remember,” there was a menacing edge to Bert’s words, “no work equals no pay-down and more interest. Oh yeah, and if I don’t fill those slots, I’ll add double the fee to the Way Brothers tab I’ve got open.”

The phone went silent. Gerard was not thinking about the increased debt, although perhaps he should have been. No, he was relieved that he could still see Frank tonight. Even so, surely a small vodka would not hurt, would it? Just to release that tiny bit of tension Bert’s called had caused? Two extra-large swigs later, he was putting the finishing touches to his hair and eyeliner. 

Absorbed in committing to memory what he wanted Frank to consent to before agreeing to start over with him, Gerard had forgotten the conversation with Bert. That was until as he was swiftly navigating his way on foot to Frank’s apartment, aware that he was already late, he bumped, oh so inconveniently, into Quinn.

“Just the person I was looking for.” Quinn had a glint in his eye that unnerved Gerard. That was easy enough to do, but he knew this time that the concern was warranted.

“Oh, hi Quinn.” He was at a loss for what else to say. Gerard was under no illusion that Bert would have mentioned their conversation.

“Hi, Quinn? That’s all you’ve got to say? No apology? No grovelling?”

Gerard tried to edge his way around Quinn. “Well, er…yes, I suppose it is all I have.” Gerard found himself slowly being marshalled into a side street, Quinn holding onto his arm with a vice-like grip.

“Do you know who’s had to clean up your mess?” 

Gerard nodded, signalling that he understood that Bert had tasked Quinn with getting cover for the two clients Gerard had refused.

“Don’t you think,” Quinn carried on, “I have enough to deal with without cleaning up after useless assholes like you?”

Gerard examined his feet. He felt that was a safer bet than looking at Quinn. He was, however, aware that Quinn had manoeuvred them into an empty parking lot off the side street. He sneaked a look around, his heart sinking when he saw that there were trash cans in one corner. Gerard reckoned that if you hid behind them, nobody would be able to see what was going on. Predictably, Quinn was leading them over to that spot. A sick feeling rose up into his throat; he swallowed the bile back down. ‘Shit, Frank is going to think I stood him up’ was the last thing he thought before the blows began to rain down on him.

Regaining awareness, Gerard scanned his surroundings for any sign of his attacker. He expected that Quinn would be long gone, but that did not stop him for looking. What now? Undoubtedly, he would have a few bruises, maybe a cut or two. Nothing he had not dealt with before. No need to attend to those now. Frank. Frank was what mattered. He could not have Frank thinking he was playing games. That would only enrage Frank. Admittedly if what Frank had been declaring about his feelings for Gerard was true, there was also the possibility that Frank would fly off the handle at the sight of him. That was a chance he would have to take. He would figure out what to do, to save Frank from himself, if that happened.

Gerard pulled his jacket collar up and fetched a cigarette from his pocket. Keeping off the main streets, as far away from public scrutiny as possible, he jogged – yes, he Gerard Way king of sloth, jogged towards Frank’s apartment block. The years of inactivity, smoking, and drinking taking their toll, he leaned on the door frame panting hard.

The genuine concern on Frank’s face, when he opened the door, was encouraging. The deck was slowly starting to become stacked in Frank’s favour. However, Gerard’s fears that Frank would want to do something about Quinn’s actions were correct. Initially, all he could think of was meekly requesting that Frank just let the situation be.

Oh, how intoxicating Frank’s touch on his face was. The vodka had worn off. The only explanation for the warmth spreading through his body was Frank. There had to be another way to stop Frank from rushing off and doing something stupid. Even if it was so that Gerard could experience more of his touch. So much for ‘ground rules only’! What he needed so desperately were comfort and reassurance. Gerard was convinced that Frank was the balm for what ailed him.

Out of nowhere, he knew exactly what the solution to that problem was. As low a blow as the one Frank had aimed at him the other night.

“Frank. You have to let this go. You can’t get mixed up in this. I know you want to fight my battles for me, but for my own good, I need to fight this one myself – the legal way. Remember what James told you. He warned you to stay out, so heed that warning. What happens if you make things worse and screw things up for the cops, and by association Mikey and me, by trying to settle scores with your fists.”

“Shit.” Frank’s eyes were wide with surprise. Perhaps there was a smidgen of something else in there too. Not the raging fire of revenge. Something infinitely softer. “When did you get so wise? Trying to give me a taste of my own medicine, rubbing the police angle in my face, huh” he teased. Tenderly, Frank ran a finger down the side of Gerard’s face, while his other hand remained to cradle his chin. 

“How’s about” Frank questioned as he stood up, leaving a hand planted against Gerard’s cheek, “while I phone James to let him know what’s gone on, you order us some Chinese takeout? Then we can still discuss your “rules of engagement” over dinner; just instead of being at a restaurant, we’ll be here in my apartment. I’ll even pinkie promise to behave!”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So did you really think I'd let them off that easy? Honestly? Well at least Frank kind of behaved himself again! The question is can he stay the good guy, what do you think? 
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter, so feel free to hmu.


	17. Chapter 16 - Should I be shocked now by the last thing you said?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Pete has a 'great idea' and Alex comes to a momentous decision about Frank and Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies.
> 
> A little later than anticipated, but it is here! The next chapter is written so hopefully, if I get a chance to edit, that will be up before the end of this week too!
> 
> I think I got all the typos and errors, if not apologies.

*Pete’s Apartment – Friday Night*  
As the bedroom door creaked open, Patrick and Mikey craned their necks to watch what happened next. Pete, still wrapped in his comforter, shuffled out of the room, not towards the bathroom, but them. With a loud ‘oof’, Pete was there in front of them, blocking their view of the TV.

“Hey.” Pete disentangled a hand from his covering and waved it in front of his best friend and ex-boyfriend.

“Pete, er, so, you’re up, then?” Patrick punched Mikey in the arm for stating the obvious.

“Obviously, Dude!” Patrick’s words dripped with sarcasm. “Well, sweets, what’s going on?”

Now Mikey got his revenge, slapping Patrick upside the head. “No sugar coating anything with you, is there?”

Patrick stoically ignored Mikey’s jibe. He reached across Mikey to the remote perched on the arm of the couch.

“Oi, I was watching that” Mikey yelled as the TV screen went black.

“And now, you get to watch me instead” Pete deadpanned.

“Oh lord, here we go.” Patrick began massaging his shoulders, eyes shut, head tilted upwards as if either seeking help from above or prepping himself for a battle he knew was coming. “Ok, Pete. You’re up voluntarily. You’re totally ruining Mikey’s ‘oh so important’ viewing plans. What’s up?”

Mikey went to dispute the comment about his TV habits, but Patrick scowled at him, a finger pressed to his lips, daring Mikey to say another word. Pete’s reappearance from hibernation was important.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Dangerous.” Another look of death passed from Patrick to Mikey.

“Go on, sweets. Ignore the dweeb. Whatcha’ been thinking about?”

“Us.” Pete pointed at each of the three of them in turn. “I have my two favourite people in the world here, looking after me when most would’ve left me to fend for myself.”

Baffled was the only way to describe the look on Pete and Mikey’s faces. However, Pete now had their undivided attention. Neither said anything, waiting for Pete to elaborate. Pete adjusted the comforter and wiggled around to find just the right spot on the floor. He pursed his lips, prolonging the agony for Mikey and Pete. In truth, he was garnering every ounce of that dazzling Pete Wentz personality. The irresistible way he had patented of combining the angle of his head, the sparkle in his eyes, and the smile on his lips with the words he spoke. The new combination of drugs was having a positive effect, but he was not out of the pit yet, so to pull this off required effort. So much effort that it even crossed his mind not to say any more get up and retreat to the cocoon he called a bedroom. However, he knew Patrick would not let it drop; he would fuss until Pete caved. Also, more importantly, he was convinced that he was correct with this proposed new direction. If he left it now, the moment would pass, and he would have to set it all up again – god knows how long it would be before that happened. He latched on to the energy, accepted that he would pay for it emotionally later, and launched the attack.

“I need both of you in my life. ‘Trick, I’ve missed holding you in a way I can’t begin to describe. Mikey, I…I need you as more than a friend. I know you feel that way too. Don’t even try to deny it, the sensuality, the sexual tension in the air when we’re together is palpable. I want the three of us to figure this out. I know I’m an asshole that pisses around a lot, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious in my life.”

The room was thick with stunned silence, punctuated only by the gentle sounds of the three men breathing.

The winning smile that facial and body angles were spot on. No one could refuse. To his chagrin, the lack of refusal was what caused so many of the lows as well as the highs in Pete’s life. He was hoping that this would be a high once that Wentz magic seeped into Patrick and Mikey’s bones, but the wait was excruciating.

Eventually, the silence was torn apart by heavy, laboured breaths, as Mikey, resisting the spell Pete had cast, struggled for air.

“Crap, shit, oh fuck! ‘Trick, please sort him out!” Pete scrambled up and fled back to his room, distraught that he brought on one of his friend’s anxiety or panic attacks.

Fortunately, Patrick was already on it. He was rubbing small, soothing circles on Mikey’s back and cooing at Mikey to start naming the things that he could see around him — gently trying to reset a calm rhythm to Mikey’s breathing.

“Well, darn! If that wasn’t unexpected,” Patrick exclaimed once Mikey began to stabilise. “Um, jeez, I hope he doesn’t mean what I think he means. Er…um…no offence, Mikey.”

Mikey, still unable to catch his breath well enough to talk, raised a hand in understanding. His brain was fizzing. The breathing may have normalised, but not the underlying anxiety, or was this panic? Whichever, he was not ready for this. Heck, he still was not fully reconciled to the ‘I like men as much as women’ part of his make-up, even though Pete had hit the nail on the head about their chemistry together. Maybe it wasn’t men in general, just Pete. Throwing Patrick into the mix – whoa! He’d never spent much time alone with him before sharing responsibility for looking after Pete, much less considered the possibility of finding him attractive or anything like that. What the fuck?

Patrick slumped back against the couch, lips moving in an unheard prayer to the gods of sanity that this was Pete’s medication cocktail talking and not some serious request that they construct some weird three-way relationship.

*Alex & Jack’s Studio Apartment – Saturday*  
“Sure thing, bro. Yeah, I’ll drag his ass there on time.” Alex ended the call with a calm exterior that belied the pure excitement bubbling below the surface. “Jack, Jack! Wake up, lazy boy. Get your butt over here.”

“Where’s the fire?” Jack sauntered through to the kitchenette, neither fully awake nor amused at being roused from his nap. His head was still pounding. He cursed their joint inability to make a note when things ran out, like painkillers, so they never seemed to have any when they needed them. Water and sleep were poor substitutes when it came to splitting headaches.

“That was Zack. Guess what he wanted?” Alex was bouncing with unbridled exhilaration.

Jack was not catching the spirit. “Babes, I am so not feeling guessing games,” he sighed, making a feeble attempt to release the pressure points in his temples.

Alex bounded over to offer his services as a masseur. While his fingers eased their way into the knots in Jack’s shoulders, he spilt the beans. “You remember that Indie label? Not the one that came to watch our show, but the one where Bob reckoned he knew the backers?

Jack perked up instantaneously. “Yeah? So, what?” There was expectation in his voice. Alex’s next sentence did not disappoint.

“They want to talk to us! Wednesday 11 am - Zack has threatened to lynch you if you’re not there ten minutes before. We.Could.Be.Signed.By.The.End.Of.The.Week!”

Jack span about, flinging his arms around Alex’s waist. The two of them jumped around the kitchenette, shrieking like over-excited kids at the holidays for a full five minutes until they collapsed against the kitchen cabinets, hoarse and out of breath.

“Fuck, it’s really happening, Al!”

“I know. I gotta tell Frank.”

The temperature in the room instantly dropped several degrees.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jack shrugged, giving Alex no opportunity to miss the icy timbre to his voice.

Alex snuggled closer to Jack. Before he could push him away, Alex placed one hand on Jack’s knee, laying the other flat against his cheek. “Ah, oops. No, Dummie, not…I didn’t mean it like that. Uh, I guess I’m a jackass?”

“Yes! Cute, but still…hold on, is jackass strong enough of a word?”

“Moron, imbecile, thoughtless asshole? Any of those fit the bill?” Alex offered.

Jack nodded his approval then planted a sloppy kiss on Alex’s cheek.

“I wanted to let Frank know because without him getting us that first gig, we wouldn’t be here now.” Alex pulled himself up to his feet, yanking Jack up with him. “I am also going to let him know,” Alex paused, purely for dramatic effect, “I think now is most definitely the time to cut him out of…”

“Our sex life?”

Alex grinned from ear to ear at the wicked glint in Jack’s eye. “Precisely, just not out of my life altogether. I like him. He’s good company when he’s not being an arrogant bastard, and he knows people – people that could be really useful for us to know too.”

“Ok, you’re forgiven.” Jack flashed a come-hither look, headache now forgotten. “Now, about our sex life?” He vaulted the back of the couch, before sliding off the other side to pull it out into their bed, retrieve the (hopefully) necessary lube from the drawer, and then patted the space beside him.

Alex did not need a second invitation and, shedding his t-shirt and sneakers en route, he was soon straddling Jack, hands either side of his head, gazing into those heart-melting dark brown eyes.

Jack reached up to pull Alex in closer until their lips were touching. A spark of electricity crackled at that contact, causing them both to pull back momentarily before drawing back in. This time there was no gentleness or tenderness to the kiss. Each sought out the warmth of the other’s mouth with their tongues; darting and twisting around each other as if each was fighting not only for supremacy over the other but to be the one to have explored every inch of the other’s mouth.

While his lips were attached to Jack’s, Alex began to fiddle with the buttons on Jack’s shirt, until in sheer frustration, Jack shoved Alex away and sat up, wrenching his shirt over his head, not even bothering with those buttons that remained fastened.

Immediately, Alex fastened his mouth to Jack’s sensitive spot, just below his Adam’s apple. Nipping ever so slightly at the skin. He loved the smell of Jack. As ridiculous as it might seem, Jack’s scent always felt like coming home. Frank may have been a thrill ride, an exciting infatuation that was never meant to last, but Jack was home. As Alex, showered Jack with kisses, licks and nips, Jack’s eyes closed, and his body seemingly melted into Alex’s.

“Oh, fuck.” Jack’s eyes were still firmly shut, his hips rolling up against Alex’s hip. “Uh.” 

Alex knew that expression. Jack was imagining something; something ………“Go on, Jack. What are you seeing?” Alex crooned while his hands tangled in Jack’s hair. 

“I was remembering that night with Brendon and Ryan. How sensual it was, the familiar sweet taste of you as we kissed, mixed with Brendon’s unfamiliar scent, expensive aftershave with a musky, salty undertone that had to be uniquely Brendon. The thrill when my hands unexpectedly connected with Brendon’s while both of us were taking pleasure in how your skin yields so softly to the touch.”

Alex failed to stifle a moan as he too pictured the scene. “More, baby. Keep talking,” he panted, as they both slithered their way out of their pants and boxers.

“That sneaky glimpse out of the corner of my eye at Ryan. His mouth hanging open, his eyes blown with lust. Oh shit, Babes, oh yessss.” Jack’s hips bucked at the intrusion of Alex’s lubed fingers; his reminiscing halted temporarily as Alex’s fingers searched for that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Tell me more about Ryan. What else?” Alex pushed in with his fingers one last time, making sure that Jack was ready for his throbbing cock that positively ached to feel Jack’s warm heat surround it.

“His pant zipper undone,” Jack rasped, “his hand down the front of them, touching himself as he watched the three of us writhe and moan together. The little whines that escaped his mouth as his wrist flicked. His speed matching Brendon’s, stroke for stroke.” 

Jack’s back arched, his head tilted backwards, his mouth formed a perfect little soundless ‘o’ when no coherent words could form as Alex made his first full thrust.

Regaining his ability to speak, Jack continued, “The sound of skin slapping against skin, the moans, the panting, and the whimpers from the three of us. The steady rise in pitch and tempo, as one by one we all unloaded. Then there was Ryan, looking utterly debauched, hair messed up, eyeliner running, pants still unzipped, phone back in his hand as he captured the aftermath.”

Alex increased his pace, slamming into Jack and now that he had the angle right, he never missed the mark. Neither could speak, the only words leaving either’s mouth were expletives accompanied by wanton mewls. Jack had his hand around his cock, working himself to his climax watching the expression on Alex’s face as the heat coiled in the pit of Alex’s stomach until they both shuddered with the release of orgasm.

“Fuck, that was hot. Do you think they’ll give us a copy of what they captured on Ryan’s phone? Wonder how much better than watching porn that would be?”

“Jack Barakat – what has gotten into you?” Alex laughed.

“You baby.” A sweaty Jack placed a delicate kiss on Alex’s chest before nuzzling into the crook of his neck to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a filler chapter but not really a filler chapter. Anyone got any thoughts on Pete's great idea? I'm so obviously not fudging the whole Peterick / Petekey issue or anything - much ;). Alex 'dumping' Frank, really? Is that a good thing for Frank?
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants.


	18. *Chapter 17 – Tell me I’m a bad man*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which we find out if Frank can really stick to the rules and stop himself retaliating against Bert on Gerard's behalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh! So sorry, this was supposed to be posted Friday - no excuses other than it didn't happen that way. Ooops.
> 
> So back to the Frerard space! For those of you who had faith in Frank - was it justified, or is Frank still being the selfish little ......?
> 
> I think I got all the errors and typos, if not then apologies.

*Sunday afternoon – Union City Police Precinct*  
“Can you say that again? You’re here to pick up who?” The bored cop drummed her fingers on the counter.

“Frank Iero.” Gerard tried not to sound too frustrated at her lack of comprehension. Another blank look. “Eye-ear-oh” he tried again, “short guy, dark shoulder-length hair falling over his eyes, and covered in tats.”

“Ah, ok, Dewees’s friend?”

Final-fucking-ly Gerard thought. But in the interests of self-preservation and not getting busted for sassing cops, he smiled sweetly as he nodded at her.

The cop picked up the phone next to her, the fingers of her free hand still drumming as she waited for someone to pick up at the other end. “Dewees? There’s a guy here for Ie..I..Iero?” Gerard bit his lip as she stumbled over, then mangled Frank’s surname. 

“They’re on their way down now.” She motioned for Gerard to sit on the purgatorial looking wooden bench opposite and wait.

Gerard pondered how come all institutional places had the same fear and vomit inducing smells. You know that peculiar stench that schools, hospitals, the MVC, and yes, police precincts all had. He had done nothing wrong if you overlooked him selling his body to pay off Mikey’s debt, and yet he was feeling sick and with a dread in his bones that would be appropriate if he was about to be locked up and the key thrown away. He shifted from side to side trying to get comfortable on the rock-hard seat. The bench was apparently an integral part of the general foreboding atmosphere of the place.

“Gerard, good to see you!” 

Gerard looked up to see James pushing through the double doors into the lobby, Frank trailing behind him. 

“James. I was surprised to get your call. I mean, I …why call me?” Gerard stopped before he made even more of an idiot of himself tripping over his words.

James grabbed Frank by the elbow, steering him to the exit. There was no disguising the scowl on James’s face or the slight stomp in his step. James paused momentarily at the door, beckoning for Gerard to follow. “We’re going across the road for coffee. Come on.”

Gerard hurried after the two friends, aware that James’s tone left no room for debate or disagreement.

“What type of imbeciles are the two of you?” James thundered. “I thought I made myself abundantly clear – no getting involved. Leave it to the professionals, not go around like a half-crazed miniature vigilante on some personal vendetta.” 

Frank’s mouth twitched, he so wanted to bite at that ‘miniature’ dig, then thought better of it allowing James to blow off steam. If James had thrown that jibe into the lecture, then he was not irrevocably pissed at him.

James continued pointing at Gerard, “Don’t think you’re off the hook. Did you encourage the dipshit?” 

Gerard shook his head, too embarrassed to say that he had tried, unsuccessfully it appeared, to stop Frank from going after Bert and his minions. 

“Uh huh, well anyways, why did you not bother reporting that?” James jabbed a finger at Gerard’s bruises. “I know who did it; Mighty Mouse over there told me it was Allman.“

“Hey, quit picking on my size! Not like you’ve got the tall, brooding handsome hero build either!” Frank had lifted out of his seat and was leaning across the table to get up in James’s face. 

“Not another word out of you.” James pushed Frank back over to his side of the table. “You need to thank your lucky stars that they were all more concerned with being in police custody and not giving us an opportunity to dig, than what happened to you. You should also be grateful that one of the arresting officers recognised Allman and called us, so I could come and rescue you.”

“Yeah, thanks, buddy. I do owe you one for that.”

“Damn straight you do.” James was still all business as he took a sip of coffee. “Now, are you both going to listen to me? You seriously have to lay low for a while, the pair of you. Don’t go anywhere near McCracken, Allman or Howard unless you absolutely have to. I wouldn’t put retaliation past them.” James hummed as if considering options. Looking at Gerard, he asked, “does your brother know anything about you getting beaten up?”

Gerard cottoned on immediately, his face paling at the thought that Mikey might now be in danger. 

“Well, you better tell him to watch his back.” James downed the rest of his coffee in one, almost slamming the mug down on the table when he had finished. “I’m going back to work. I’ll figure out what we can do to help you two idiots (and Mikey) stay out of harm’s way.” With that, he left Frank and Gerard alone to figure out what next.

*One hour later – Gerard’s apartment*  
Frank could honestly say he that this was another side of Gerard that he had never seen before – anger. Rage would be a better description of it. If he could work out how to use it and still maintain his dominance, it would be quite the turn on. In fact, he was thinking so much about how he could use that passion for a much more interesting purpose than Gerard ranting; he had zoned out.

“Frank, are you even listening to me?” Gerard demanded. “I’m not sure why I even suggested you come back here. You’re…”

“Irresistible?” Frank had dragged his attention back to Gerard.

Gerard’s eyes flashed with anger. “No, you’re dangerous. You do whatever the fuck you want, irrespective of anyone else.” Oh, he was on a roll now. “James told you. I told you. You even agreed with both of us that you wouldn’t do anything stupid; but you still had to massage that overinflated ego of yours, didn’t you?”

Frank was lapping this up. The passion oozing from Gerard – what they could achieve between them with that. For now, though, he would restrain himself and watch Gerard’s outburst.

“Are you part cat or something? Have you got nine lives? Do you always come out smelling of roses? No, don’t bother to answer – I already know.”

But Gerard did not know the truth. Frank decided to let it go. He had come up smelling of shit a few times before. Just because he had ducked criminal charges for his behaviour recently, did not mean that he had never had his scrapes with the law before. Luckily his juvenile record had been wiped clean, so he never had to declare it, although James knew it all too well. Since then he had learned how to be so much more careful until now that was, the combination of Gerard and then Alex had made him careless.

“Vodka?”

“Yes, vodka” Gerard snapped, head buried in a cupboard trying to find a clean glass. “I need a drink. Want one?” 

To drink or not to drink, that was Frank’ dilemma. Keep to the rule book or send it to hell and them with it? “Please.” 

Glass in hand, Gerard persisted with his verbal assault on Frank. A couple of sentences of pent up feelings, then a shot of vodka, until he had vented everything he felt about his relationship with Frank from the day they had first met until having to pick him up from the UCPD that morning. Gerard was so caught up in his tirade that he seemed oblivious to the fact that the bottle was empty, but Frank had only had the one shot.

Gerard went to pour another shot. “Oh,” he said looking at the empty bottle. “Crap, we went through that fast. I think I’ve got some …maybe not. Must not have replaced the whiskey yet. Damn!”

Frank took the bottle from Gerard’s hand, then placed it in the sink. “I think you’ve had enough; the sun isn’t over the yard-arm yet.”

“But” Gerard whined, “I haven’t finished chewing you out yet, asshole. I’m going to the liquor store. Coming or staying?”

The temptation was overwhelming. Not the temptation to drink, but the use of every ounce of charm and coercion in his arsenal to get Gerard to stay. If only Frank wanted Gerard to stay because all the signs of him slipping into old habits with alcohol were there. No, as much as that was a concern, the real reason was that Frank wanted Gerard. A drunk Gerard was usually a quiet, morose Gerard, easily moulded and persuaded into doing anything Frank wanted. This angry Gerard was fascinating. A treat. The challenge was right in front of him. Yup, the guidelines for their relationship be damned; this was an opportunity to get back into Gerard’s pants that he was not going to pass up. Not after a night in the cells. He could always dress it up as concern for Gerard’s drinking habits to start with and then as he worked his magic, things would naturally take their course.

“We’re both staying. Give me the glass. Now go next door while I start some coffee brewing.”

For a split-second, Gerard gave Frank the impression that he was going to argue. Instead, he settled for sticking his tongue out before doing as he was asked. As Gerard left for the living room, he burst out, “don’t think this means I’m not still mad at you.”

Frank smiled as he set about brewing the coffee. The pot should be ready just in time for afterwards, he thought, licking his lips.  
When Frank entered the living room, Gerard was flicking aimlessly through TV channels. He perched himself on the arm of the couch, putting his feet up on the cushion. He leaned forward, keeping his hands braced on the arm, as he studied Gerard. 

“Quit it!”

“Quit what? Can’t I look at you?” The perfect opening for his charm offensive. “The way that your hair falls onto the nape of your neck. The flush in your cheeks from releasing that pent-up emotion. Your pale hands, with those long artistic fingers, so sensual, even if they’re just holding the remote. I want to drink it all in, Gee, to remember you at this moment. I missed this.”

Gerard’s eyes stayed glued to the TV, changing the channel yet again.

Damnit, Frank thought, do I really have to try that hard? When did he get so resistant? Yes, he reflected as he slid off the arm of the couch and sidled up to Gerard, this is going to be entertaining. But Gerard inched away from him.

“It won’t work. Not this time, Frank. Guidelines, remember? Fuck this shit. Netflix – must be something I haven’t binge-watched yet.” 

Gerard stood up, throwing the cable remote at Frank before he stretched one leg over the coffee table and bent forwards to pick up the TV remote. The effects of the vodka kicked in, and instead of gracefully returning to his seat on the couch, he wobbled almost falling face first into the coffee table. 

“Nice ass” Frank quipped, reaching out a hand to steady Gerard. “Shame somebody won’t let me touch it.” 

He deliberately left his hand on Gerard’s arm longer than necessary once Gerard was safely back in his seat. Then he walked his fingers slowly up towards Gerard’s shoulder and began to rub circles on the sensitive place between neck and shoulder. The spot that always made Gerard putty in his hands. He felt a tiny shiver. Maybe he was getting somewhere. Shuffling closer he blew tantalisingly gently on the same spot while his arm snaked around Gerard’s shoulder and onto his chest, where Frank inched his way in small circles under the neckline of Gerard’s t-shirt.

“Frankieee”

That was the noise Frank had been waiting to hear. His head dipped even closer to Gerard’s neck. When his nose was almost in contact with the soft skin, he began to nibble on it. He tasted of stale cigarette smoke and sweat. Yes, that was how he remembered Gerard tasted – hardly ever of body wash or cologne. He wouldn’t say no to those scents, but he preferred the unique natural smell of his partners to the manufactured ones that sought to turn individuals into sanitised clones. Frank felt Gerard soften and lean in towards him, so he took that as the green light to keep going. In what was a clumsy, awkward movement, Frank tried to turn and nudge Gerard backwards so that he would be lying on the couch. In the end, it took several attempts. Gerard, brain firing on vodka, did not appear to get what Frank wanted him to do. But Frank managed it in stages until finally, Gerard was on his back with Frank straddling him.

Smirking, because he already knew what he would find, Frank ran his hand down from Gerard’s shoulder to his crotch. There it was, that bulge in his pants. Frank squeezed.

“Ahh, Frank.” Gerard’s hips bucked up, pushing himself into Frank’s hands.

“That good, baby?” Frank squeezed again, harder this time. He watched as Gerard’s head tipped back slightly, and another moan escaped past his lips. “Want this, huh?” Frank switched to rubbing Gerard through his jeans with one hand, the other hand helping the growing erection in his own pants. “Tell me, Gee. Tell me how much you want this.”

“I, uh, fuck” Gerard was grinding against Frank’s hand, straining like he needed to feel the friction. Frank was only too happy to oblige. However, just as he had undone Gerard’s jeans and started to pull down his boxers, Frank felt Gerard’s hand heavily on his shoulder, pushing him away. 

“No, Frank. I can’t. We agreed not to go there.” Gerard’s voice was raspy, laced with lust. 

“But you know you want this, Gerard. Why not? Screw the rules. I’m not about to just fuck you and leave. You know what I want, a relationship with you.” Way to cockblock huh, Gee? Ughh, just one minute more, Frank thought ruefully, and I would have had him.

Gerard raised himself up to a sitting position, trying to right his clothing. “Yes, I want you. But not now. Not like this.” 

Reluctantly, Frank got off the couch and settled for sitting on the coffee table. 

“So, what now?” He had no idea what emotions were showing on his face – he had too many running through his brain, coupled now with sexual frustration. He wondered what Gerard would read into his expression. Gerard better not want some deep and meaningful conversation right now. Then again, Gerard had better not want to call it quits right now either.

“Shit, I hate that you proved me right, again. Frankie must do whatever Frankie wants.” 

Were those tears on Gerard’s face? Christ, Frank hoped not.

Gerard hiccoughed softly before continuing. “You can’t help yourself, can you? I was starting to think you could be the good guy, but you were just toying with me, were n’t you? Fuck you, Frank Iero!”

“No, Gerard.” For once Frank had no internal fight over what to do. He had screwed up. He knew it. He would own it. “I got carried away. No excuses, Gerard. Can’t we just start this over again, cuddle and watch a movie or something?” 

Gee shook his head sadly. “I don’t trust either of us just to cuddle. Please leave.”

Frank wanted to fight, he agreed with Gerard, he was not to be trusted, but why did that man have to get under his skin so much that it twisted his insides. He was desperate to feel himself inside Gerard, but he also knew that he wanted that to be more than a one-time, last ever, fuck. He wanted to explore what it felt like to build a caring relationship with Gerard. He wondered how much more intense that could make the sex. However, this afternoon he had let the old Frank win and screwed things up right royally. 

“I’ll go now, Gee. Please call me when you’ve sobered up.” What he wanted to do was explain that nobody was perfect, that everybody gets things wrong from time to time, that changing old habits was hard, and on and on with excuse after excuse and reason after reason to justify why Gerard should give him yet another chance. Instead, he got up, without laying another finger on Gerard and quietly exited the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, well did you really think I'd let him be perfect quite so easily? At least it looks like he is still trying though. Any words for Frank or Gerard on what next?
> 
> The next update is my calendar for Friday - hopefully that way I will upload on time, but we'll see.
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I usually tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants.


	19. *Chapter 18  - You left my heart an open wound*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of ruined groundrules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after the Frank can't stick to rules for shit debacle last chapter, what is going on in both Frank and Gerard's heads? Has Gerard finally had enough of Frank, or does he see Frank leaving when he asked as progress? Has Frank used up all nine lives yet? We'll find out over the course of about 2,000 words.
> 
> I think I got the errors and typos in this. If not, apologies.

*Gerard’s PoV*  
Even after the soft click of the apartment door, Gerard did not move. He felt rooted to the couch. His head spun. There was only one way to alleviate the swirling thoughts and emotions. Unluckily for Gerard, that meant moving, but his limbs would not cooperate. 

“Shit! Fuck, fucking, fuck!” There was not much likelihood of his vodka-soaked brain making sense of which was the appropriate emotion, or whether he had done the right thing in stopping Frank and kicking him out. Whatever, the act was done. Oblivion was a far more appealing prospect if he could somehow get up off the couch. The liquor store beckoned.

“Come on, Geeeee,” he implored, only to remain firmly attached to the cushion. Admitting the temporary setback, Gerard rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

Sometime later, he had no idea how long he had been out, a groggy Gerard rubbed his eyes. Boy did they sting. What was that noise?

“Phone!” He patted his pockets. Nope. Not on the table. Not down between the cushions. By the time he had concluded that the phone was not close by, it had rung off.

Despite his nap, Gerard’s emotions had not calmed. He was both furious with Frank for trying to take advantage of him and ashamed that he had let it get so far that Frank thought he had a chance. The confusing part? Gerard was also disappointed that it had stopped. He had really wanted Frank; there was no denying it.

“Right, shall we try again? Up and at ‘em! The vodka won’t make its own way here.” 

This time, Gerard’s extortions worked and in a particularly ungraceful movement, he made it to his feet. First action – find the phone, then jacket, shoes and keys. The phone and keys were lying on the kitchen counter, next to a still-warm pot of coffee. Gerard did not remember brewing this; it must have been Frank.

“Shame to waste it,” he said as he grabbed a mug from the draining board. That cup of coffee allowed him time to stare at, but not read, a text from Frank. It started with, “I am sorry I was such an…”. Not the usual tone of Frank’s texts, but Gerard was in no mood to read the full text. The missed call had been Mikey. In another bout of unusual behaviour, Mikey had left a voicemail. Gerard played that voicemail while he downed a second mug of coffee. But coffee could not replace vodka, so calling Mikey back would have to wait for his return.

Almost exactly half an hour later, Gerard was flopped on his bed like an angsty teen a small bottle of vodka in one hand while the other pressed his phone to his ear.

“Pete’s serious?”

“As a heart attack!”

Gerard took a sharp intake of breath. It was a bit of a mindfuck that Pete wanted a polyamorous relationship with Mikey and Patrick. It was no surprise that Pete wanted his cake and to eat it too, but this suggestion? To tell the truth, Gerard was baffled by it. The thought of Pete hurting Mikey the way he had Patrick made Gerard feel nauseated, and that was most definitely not the effects of the vodka.

“So, what’s Patrick think about all this?”

Mikey hesitated. “…well…well…at first, he thought it was as ludicrous as I did. But…I think he might be changing his mind.”

Gerard had not expected that answer. “This is the same Patrick Stump that kicked Pete out because he couldn’t take all the other men?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds.

“Pete kind of promised that if he had both of us, he wouldn’t screw around. I…I…guess maybe Patrick thinks it’s worth giving this weird relationship thing a shot, then at least he knows Pete isn’t off with random guys he doesn’t give a shit about.”

“But what about you, Mikes? Come on! You and Pete – I totally get that. Christ, it’s taken you long enough…”

Mikey sighed, signalling he knew where his older brother was going with this. “Honestly, I don’t know…that’s why I wanted to get your take. Gee, what do I do?”

Gerard let out a wry chuckle, as the vodka loosened his tongue. “Fucked if I know, Mikes. It’s not as if I’ve got a great track record with relationships. Hell, I’ve been bloody useless at them. I’ve been a doormat, a toy for two men to abuse as they saw fit for years now, with barely an objection on my part, and then I sign up to sell my body to pay off your drug debts because it just so happened that you owed one of the two assholes I can’t say no to…”

Gerard was going to continue, but a whisper from Mikey cut him off.

“I’m sorry, Gee. I truly am sorry about that.”

“Yeah, Mikey, so am I. So am I.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! I need to know!”

Gerard could hear a thump in the background which he supposed was Mikey hitting something close by out of frustration. He waited to see if his brother would say anything else about what he needed to know, although he had a rough idea anyway. Instead, Mikey shifted the topic of conversation.

“So, Frank behaving himself? Sticking to your rules?”

Now it was Gerard’s turn to sigh and hit something; well throw something – the not quite finished bottle of vodka at the wall.

“Ok,” Mikey ventured, “I’ll take that as a no. What’s the fucker done now?”

“You don’t really want to…” Gerard paused as the thought pushed its way to the front of his vodka-soaked brain, that Mikey may not ‘want’ to know, but there were things that Mikey ‘needed’ to know about Frank’s misbehaviour. “Um, I guess I should’ve told you this before, but…Quinn beat me up for cancelling on Bert at short notice. Frank went after him, Bert and Jeph…”

“Uh huh…so?” Mikey did not sound as if he understood the significance of Frank’s actions.

“He got arrested for it, Mikes. Almost screwed the police operation. Dewees had to smooth things over and got me to pick him up from the station.” Gerard carefully omitted the part where Frank had attempted to break their new relationship rules because Mikey did not ‘need’ to know that.

“For fuck’s sake! Does he ever think about the consequences of things? Like how shit might affect other people?”

“Sure,” Gerard protested, “he does…occasionally. Look at what he did in taking me away from Bert’s party and getting the cops involved, and…” the vodka made Gerard loose-lipped again, “he stopped touching me and left without a fuss when I asked him to earlier.”

“Oh, Gee. But, don’t you see that he just can’t help himself can he? You what set those rules only a few days ago and here we are with him breaking them almost instantly. What are you gonna do?” Mikey sounded exasperated.

“No better idea than you with Pete’s idea,” Gerard spat back. “At least he did stop. The old Frank wouldn’t have and more likely than not I’d have got a slap for protesting. He also…he also may have apologised. He sent me a text. I haven’t read it yet. It starts with ‘I’m sorry’.”

“But is he, really?”

“He’s never apologised or stopped before, Mikes. This has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

Mikey laughed. “Oh boy, you’ve got it bad, haven’t you? You love Frank. I mean really love him. You never loved Bert, and you wouldn’t be like this over Bert if he didn’t have something over you.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I guess I do, Mikes,” Gerard admitted.

The brothers sat in silence for several minutes, until brotherly telepathy kicked in and they answered the pending question about what to do with their prospective relationships…

“We have to do this. We have to go all in.”

*Frank’s PoV*  
Frank trudged to the elevator. His shoulders sloped. His hands were balled into fists, visible as lumps in his pockets. He had managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and unconditionally surrendered. It hurt – big time.

“Chalk this up to experience,” he muttered bitterly. As he waited for the elevator car to arrive, he wracked his brain for another one of those homilies his therapist would have thrown at him if he had told her about his mistake. 

“Holy crap!” he exclaimed, realising that for all his misgivings, the sessions were beginning to have an impact on his thinking and behaviour. Frank had never backed down so guilelessly before when Gerard irritated him. There was still work to do to get himself back into Gerard’s good graces, but he had not lost his temper or thought about striking Gerard. That was progress. Was it something to celebrate? Nah, maybe not.

SHOWER. A long, hot, steamy shower was essential to wash away the smell of the UCPD’s holding cell. A combination of piss, sweat, and fear that seemed to ooze from every pore. Automatically his feet turned in the direction of his apartment block. His mind picturing the bliss of that shower followed by piping hot noodles and several bottles of beer. However, instead of hopping straight into the shower, Frank typed a text to Gerard, deleted it, retyped it, and then repeated that sequence another five times. Finally, he thought he had got the tone and words to convey what he meant without a hint of sass or sarcasm:  
"I’m sorry I was such a self-absorbed asshole. I wish I could snap my fingers and change, but I can’t. Please call me when you’re sober. We need to reset the clock."

Some part of Frank hoped that apologising immediately like that would salve his conscience. Because yes, believe it or not, he had a conscience. If Gerard’s claim that he always came up smelling of roses was right, then the text would do the trick and Gerard would come running back to him.

Consciences, though, are tricky things just like the little angel and demon that whispered in his ear fighting to make Frank see things their way. Even after pressing send, he still felt like a total jerk. Mostly what was pricking his conscience was that he had fully intended to abide by the ground rules he and Gerard had set. Instead, he had permitted his basest desires to overwhelm his good intentions.

Frank had never considered the possibility that he was a masochist. But the number of hurdles he kept throwing in his own way was astonishing. Maybe he was indeed an emotional masochist.

“Shower – now, or the whole apartment is going to reek of the UCPD for days.” Talking to himself was the only way he had discovered of breaking into his thought loops once he became lost in them. Leaving his phone on the well-worn dip in his couch, Frank made for the bathroom, shedding clothing as he went like a breadcrumb trail back to the item that would tell him what the next twist of fate would be in his plan for a real relationship with Gerard.

The hot water flowed down over Frank’s head, while he stood there, face tilted up into the stream, eyes closed. If he ran the water enough, if he used enough shower gel, could he wash away the smell of all his recent screw-ups? He hoped so.

It was not the layer of grime that he had from his little stay at the UCPD that he was concerned about, although he did need to rid himself of that too. No, what was troubling Frank was that his luck might have run out and that there was no way back with Gerard. Yup, he was more scared about that than being stuck in a holding cell for hours with Union City’s lowlife scum. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. Lather, rinse, repeat. Lather, rinse, repeat. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

That phrase ran around Frank’s head as he scrubbed at his body in an almost maniacal attempt to become pure, without stench or stain. It was not too late for that, was it?

By the time Frank stepped out of the shower, his skin was pink and his scalp sore from how he pulled so roughly on it washing his hair. Not bothered by how he looked or felt, he slung on the first comfortable clothes he found and shuffled his way into the kitchen to make some noodles.

Bowl of noodles in one hand, beer in the other, Frank followed the discarded clothing trail back to the couch and his phone. Did he dare swap the beer for his phone? He put the beer down. His hand hovered over the phone, but he drew it back almost instantly as if the phone was red hot.

“After food…and maybe after an episode of some mindless bullshit?” Frank was playing for time. He was prolonging that inevitable moment when he would have to look at his phone. He reached out again. This time he flicked the switch on the side. The phone was now in silent mode. He could continue to ignore it. The longer he delayed, the longer he could cling to the illusion of still having a relationship with Gerard.

Frank glanced forlornly at the empty bowl and drained beer bottle, while the TV screen showed the countdown to the next episode of some superhero crap that he had looked at but not really watched. He could not have told you the plot, even if you had offered him a million bucks. Now was the time to man up. He had to look at his phone sometime. He was not pansy. He was a grown-ass man, a motherfucking tough son of a bitch. He could handle rejection. His heart skipped a beat; there was a text. Then Frank saw that it was not the one he was hoping for. It was from Alex. To be fair it was more of an essay than a text. Alex’s news was great. The possibility of All Time Low getting signed, and that he had promised Jack that he would stop hooking up with Frank, permanently.

While Frank could not deny he was disappointed that there was no text from Gerard, the fact that Alex was out of his hair was a relief. Six months ago, if you had told Frank that he would have felt this way, just because of his feelings for one Gerard Way, he would have called you a liar and probably punched or kicked you for good measure. But, hey, apparently leopards can change their spots. Strange the things that love can do for you.

The other peculiar feeling Frank had looking at that text was pride. Pride that he had done something good for somebody. His contacts had given Alex’s band a leg up that they needed, no deserved. Ok, so it started as just another reason to get something sexual out of a cute guy, but still, it had worked out well for Alex, Jack, Rian and Zack. There was also that little thing of setting a roaring fire under Alex and Jack’s relationship that seemed to have been exactly what they needed. Basking in that knowledge gave Frank the faintest sliver of hope that all was not lost in his quest to make Gerard his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, all nicely teed up for the next instalment - how can they fix this fuck up? Thoughts?
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I usually tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants.


	20. *Chapter 19 – No More Drinks for the Horror that we’re in*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which we find out if Gerard went all in, and Frank managed to come up smelling of roses again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I promised that this would up up today, and it is. A chapter solely dedicated to Frank and Gerard - the what happens next after the post-UCPD bail out debacle and subsequent soul searching.
> 
> I think that I got all the errors and typos but if I didn't, apologies.

*The following Saturday*  
“Hey, wow you already got coffee!” Gerard took the takeout cup from Frank. “Thanks, I owe you. D’you know how much I need this?”

Frank grinned. “As much as you need blood or air.” Deftly ducking out of Gerard’s reach, Frank brought his cup to his lips and took a second to enjoy the aroma of freshly ground and brewed coffee. Starbucks was a pale imitation beside this Italian coffee house. If there was one thing he knew he could bribe Gerard with, it was amazing coffee. “Come on, let’s enjoy the sunshine while there’s still some warmth to the sun. I was thinking that little park off Van Vorst and Fifth?”

“Aaahhhhh.” Gerard too was appreciating the coffee’s scent. “Ok, but I need one taste before we walk. I won’t make it that far without being supercharged by caffeine,” Gerard giggled.

“Dork! One sip, then we move.” 

“Yesss, Sir!” Gerard gave a mock salute before taking as long as was humanly possible on his first mouthful. 

Frank grumbled, “Probably shouldn’t have given you that until we got to the park! You’d follow me anywhere for coffee.”

Gerard feigned offence, “Not for any old coffee; I do have some standards you know!”

Rolling his eyes, Frank strode off towards the park. Gerard fell in step beside him, both hands clasped around his drink like it was precious cargo that he had to protect. To Gerard, Frank mused, great coffee was indeed something to be treasured and protected. 

“You know,” Gerard said as they reached the park gates, “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped here before. I tend to think of it as a cut through on route to somewhere else. Didn’t figure you for one to just sit and watch the world go by? I mean we never…” 

Frank let the slightly awkward silence be, as Gerard’s words trailed off. It hit him, that no, all the time they had been together they had never just gone to a park and sat. He had been too preoccupied with getting into Gerard’s pants to bother about the niceties of companionship or sharing simple pleasures. There were not too many places in this city that were inviting and green, but this place was pretty, like it belonged in one of the more rural New Jersey towns, away from the shadow of New York City. It was one of the few places Frank used to feel at peace when things got stressful, and he wanted to be alone to clear his head. Ok, maybe that made it sound more angelic than it was, because usually if he was here, so would some form of self-medicating substance. Still, it felt symbolic, sharing this spot with Gerard. It signified a shift in him, a willingness to have authentic emotional intimacy rather than keep Gerard at arm’s length from anything other the physical. Even Frank’s anger and frustrations had been shown physically in his abusive behaviour because he was terrified of anyone knowing the real Frank. He hoped Gerard would understand the importance of this gesture and Frank’s sincerity in what he was about to propose.

“So, I was a selfish asshole on Sunday. You pitched up for me and I didn’t even have the decency to stick to the rules we agreed to. I tried to take advantage so that I could get what I wanted.”

Gerard nodded, “At least this time you respected me enough to stop and walk away. In my book that’s progress.”

Frank allowed himself the hint of a smile, sensing that things were repairable.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but hey I shouldn’t have been drinking,” Gerard continued, placing a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

“Yeah, about that... I...I. Crap, why is this so difficult? I had a thought. You seem to be drinking more again. I know you’ve had problems with booze in the past, so it’s kind of concerning me where this might be going?”

“Oh, god, you sound just like Mikey. Where’ve you hidden him?” Gerard scoffed.

“Seriously, Gee. I am concerned. Mikey has a right to be on your case about it too, he was the one that’s seen it all before. I’m sure he doesn’t want to have to go through that again.” Even if the asshole is a part of the reason this time around, Frank added in his head. It may have been true but saying it out loud would only alienate Gerard.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to do that to him. Christ, he’s got enough on his plate, what with the Bert situation and this thing between him, Pete & Trick.”

Frank raised an eyebrow but decided not to bite on that last bit of information. He had not spoken with Pete recently, he never knew how to handle Pete on a downswing. 

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” Gerard chuckled in response to Frank’s quizzical look. “You were saying?” he prompted before his tongue ran away with him.

“Right...so...yeah. You and your drinking. Actually, more accurately, us and our drinking.”

Now it was Gerard’s turn for the questioning look. “Our drinking?”

“Yes, our drinking. I think we should stop drinking. Easier said than done, I know, but... I wonder if not drinking would give us the best chance of success.”

“Go on.”

“We could support each other, explore more constructive ways of coping together. I don’t know; it just seems like alcohol isn’t helping us.” Frank was studiously observing a bird frenziedly fluttering from bush to bush, too uncomfortable to look at Gerard.

“Ok, what the hell have you done with Frank? Where do you have him locked up because this person next to me sure as shit isn’t the Frank Iero I know!”

Frank aimed a playful punch at Gerard’s shoulder. “I’m serious. I’m always gonna be a selfish asshole with a hair trigger, but without alcohol, I have more chance of controlling myself. I know I fucked up on that last Sunday, but if I’d been drinking it could have been way worse. Look at the appalling things I’ve done to you drunk?”

“You were pissed when you went after Quinn, weren’t you?” Gerard questioned quietly. Perhaps the sense in Frank’s suggestion was starting to click.

Frank nodded, his face a beetroot colour. He was surprised when he felt Gerard’s breath on his neck, followed by the brush of Gerard’s lips against his cheek.

“You sure about that?”

“Never been surer about anything in my life.” Gerard cupped Frank’s face in his hands. He connected his lips to Frank’s the remnants of his coffee apparently forgotten. After a few seconds, he drew back, “I’m willing to take this ride. I can’t see my life without you. Screw the bloody rules. I want you, hell, I need you.”

Frank had not expected this reaction. It was more than he had any right to expect. But he was going to run with it anyway. 

“So, I’ll take that as a yes then. I can’t be without you, either. You know I will screw up again at some point? I can’t guarantee good behaviour.”

“Uh, dumbass, if you hadn’t noticed, I have a thing for bad boys!” Gerard beamed a smile that Frank had rarely seen but had always found intoxicating. 

As much as the manipulative side of Frank liked the Gerard riddled with self-doubt and low self-esteem, the sassy attitude that leaked out occasionally was one of the most attractive things about him. Frank hoped if they could find better ways of dealing with the ups and downs of life that that side of Gerard would come out more.

“Come on! Your place or mine?”

“Really?” Frank asked, for once both his angel and his demon hoping he had got the right idea. “Mine’s closer.”

“Yes, really.” Gerard was already standing, holding a hand out to Frank, a shy blush turning his cheeks a light pink.

“Hmmm, you know, that colour suits you? Race ya?” By the time Frank had finished his sentence, he was already running across the park.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Gerard gave chase, his longer legs allowing him to cover the ground quicker.

“Oh God,” Frank panted doubled over in the hallway outside his apartment, hands resting on his knees. “Now I remember why I make it a rule never to run anywhere.”

“Awww, am I gonna need to let you rest before we er…?”

Frank glared at Gerard who was slumped on the ground, back against Frank’s apartment door. A hot sweaty mess but not in the way Frank thought suited him best. 

“Oh right, because you’re just as fresh as a daisy, aren’t you? Seriously though, where’s the rush?” Given that his face was already flushed from exertion, it was improbable that Frank’s face could turn a darker shade of red at the next words to come tumbling out of his mouth, but it did. “We should take this slow for once,” he said scooching down next to Gerard. He allowed the words to sink in, before placing a soft kiss on Gerard’s lips.

“Hey! What are you up to?” Frank felt Gerard’s hand rooting around in one of his pant pockets.

“Getting your keys. Fine if you wanna go slow, but I’m not doing it out here. Bed or couch?” Gerard dangled Frank’s keys in front of him, like some hard-won prize at the arcade. Gerard then scrambled to his feet, yanking Frank with him, and handed him his keys.

Frank’s mouth was hanging open. Yes, he definitely wanted more of this Gerard. Of course, he still needed to be the one in control of the situation, the devil in him had to be placated somehow, but this cheeky Gerard was infinitely more interesting than the apathetic puppet he was used to.

“Bed,” was his delayed response as he fumbled the key into the lock and swung the door open. Yet he was not exactly running for the bedroom discarding clothing as he went. No, he paused just inside his apartment, because there it was again, that irksome voice demanding that the only way this worked long-term was both of them sober. The voice was not going to give him any peace until Gerard had given him a definitive answer. Goddammit!

“So…uh…” Frank stammered, holding Gerard at arm’s length. “I need an answer from you on the drinking. I guess I have it because you’re here and all, but…I want us to commit to it if we’re going to be together again.”

“Oh.” Just like that, all the spirit seemed to drain out of Gerard instantly. His head drooped. His shoulders sagged. He began nervously twisting his fingers.

“Gee? What’s up?”

Gerard sighed but said nothing.

“Talk to me. We’ve said we want to be together. We’ve tried us before with my uncontrolled rage and both of us drinking – honestly, it sucked for you. I’d rather not see that happen to you again. So, what do you say?”

“I’m an alcoholic, Frank. You think I’m not aware of that and the impact on my life?” Gee almost jumped down Frank’s throat.

Frank grabbed Gerard’s lapels, drawing them closer together. “We both know that. D’you know how scared I was at Robert’s when I thought it was your drinking and drug habits that had gotten you there?”

Gerard looked at Frank through damp eyelashes. “You n…never said that before. But I keep relapsing…on the booze. Why would you want that?”

Frank knew he was about to bet the farm on red. Even with the devil dancing on his shoulder, screaming in frustration, the Frank that had privately admitted to his love for Gerard understood that this was a gamble he had to take.

“You know what? I DON’T CARE! I love you, Gerard Arthur Way. We can work through both of our addictions and my anger issues. Sure, we’ll screw up along the way, everybody does, we’re only human. But what might happen if we’re there to support one another through the shit times? We can do this. We can find more constructive ways of coping with life’s onslaughts. I love you, and I would rather work through the shitty times with you than live the rest of my life without you. Did you get that, Gee? I, Frank Iero - the angry sex addict who’s afraid of emotions, love you a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who needs to work on his self-esteem.”

Frank started to steer them towards the bedroom. Reckoning that the look on Gerard’s face meant he had won his bet.

“Wow,” Gerard choked. “That was quite the speech, Frankie.” He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. “I’ve never heard you so honest with feelings. I…I…I…L…Love…Y…You…Too.”

Frank settled on the end of the bed. He patted the space beside him with one hand. The other reached out for Gerard. “C’mere. Let me show you how much I mean it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha,I know teasing you! Of course I had to leave it there. Does it really happen next time, or will I cockblock you all again? I suspect you all know the answer to that by now, but let me know what you think happens next.
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect. I usually tweet when I post something on here.


	21. *Chapter 20 – Save me from my self-destruction*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have they finally got there and everything is plain sailing or is there another hurdle to jump over?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another update. Last week we had declarations of love and to hell with the rules (even if technically they're still in place), but I was mean and stopped it just as it looked like Frank and Gerard were going to, well you know. So do I let them go there yet, or not? Come on, really what do you expect from me? Slushy, sweet fluffy chapters? Ok, ok I can write them, and this is on the way to that, so enjoy.
> 
> I hopefully got all the typos and errors in this chapter. If some snuck through, I apologize.

*Frank’s Apartment – Frank’s PoV*  
Gerard sat down a few inches away from Frank picking at the skin around his thumb. He looked as though he was still unsure about things after the mutual declarations of love and acknowledgement of what a pair of fuck-ups they were.

“It’s ok, Gee. We really don’t have to do anything. We can cuddle. We can drink coffee. Whatever you want. We’ll take this at your pace.”

Inside, of course, there was a whole lot more turmoil than Frank was letting on. God, he wanted to tear all the clothes off the gorgeous redhead next to him, to pound him into the bed. He wanted to fuck him so hard; he would be sore for days. That is what the demon in his head was yelling. But he could not. Not unless Gerard wanted it that way. Geeze, Frank hoped he did. Or did he? Because as usual these days, there was the angel voicing their opinion. 'Treat Gerard like a prince. Treasure him. Take your time. Talk to him. Let him know all the things that you love about him – his personality and intellect too, not just his looks.' 

However, that way still sounded too lame to Frank. Maybe he could get there, someday? But not today. Was there…

Gerard’s response broke Frank’s train of thought. “I need you. I tore myself apart trying to figure out if I could be with you no matter what the consequences and I so regretted kicking you out last week, even if it was the right thing to have done. I still, you know…it’s just…I can’t help but think…I want to…Fuck! I am so dumb!” Gerard bashed his palm against his temple.

“Don’t do that, please?”

The look of surprise on Gerard’s face matched the internal surprise Frank felt that he had responded like that. Frank reached out and grabbed Gerard’s hand. Too forcefully, judging by Gerard’s now alarmed expression. Frank let go immediately.

“Sorry. Just please don’t hurt yourself. Ok?”

“What, so you can…”

“No. NO,” Frank spluttered.

“Ah, um, ok, I fucked this up, didn’t I? Can we rewind and try again?” Gerard quizzed.

Frank was obviously doing a terrible job of concealing how hurt he felt at the insinuation, even if it was wholly deserved.

“I’m trying, Gee. I truly am. Could I get the benefit of the doubt? For once? A chance to prove that I can be the good guy?” Frank could not be bothered to disguise the irritation in his voice. He was, however, determined to keep his temper under control.

“I know you are, that’s why I’m here. I want to make this work. But is there too much history for this to ever work?”

Frank’s heart sank to his Converse. So close to getting what he wanted. Yet, still so far away. He had no clue what to say, so he stayed silent.

They sat there in uncomfortable silence, giving Frank more time to be in his head with his thoughts and those oh so scary emotions because Gerard had posed the question that Frank never wanted to consider seriously. Had he done too much damage in the past? Sure, he was aware of the damage done, and it had crossed his mind that he might never have Gerard, but…but…in all honesty he had thought that eventually the Iero charm would win through. It may not have been quite as effective as the Wentz charm, nevertheless Frank could hardly remember a time it had failed him. Then there was Gerard’s indecision. Was there any possibility that he would become less indecisive and frustrating? What was the likelihood that Gerard, with all that had happened to him, could learn to trust himself and other people more, whether he was sober or not? Between himself and Bert, Frank knew that they had right royally screwed Gerard up. He had had his issues before them, that was a fact, which probably meant he was more compliant under their use and abuse. However, it was undeniable that it was Bert and Frank who had done the most severe damage to Gerard.

The idea snuck up on him out of the blue. It sent a cold shiver down his spine. It was suddenly clear as day. Given that he had never been in love before, he had never understood the phrase ‘if you love someone, let them go’. If being with Frank was only going to be harmful to Gerard, then Frank had to let him go and deal with the hurt it would cause him. Now was not the time to try and make Gerard stay. No, this time Frank had to be the one to call an end to things. For Gerard’s sake. Remarkably, both the angel and the demon were quiet – dumbstruck at Frank’s course of action.

Frank swallowed. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Frank shut his mouth, swallowed again, took a deep breath and…no, the words still weren’t coming out.

Frank snuck a look at Gerard. He was leaning back on his elbows, staring vacantly at the ceiling. An ache appeared in Frank’s chest. If this was how love felt, you could shove it! No, he couldn’t do this! The only way Frank knew to live was to fight, and he was damned if he was going to simply hand Gerard his heart on a platter and let him walk off into the sunset with it. How to fight though? Because deep down Frank knew that the decision to let Gerard go was the right one, even if it cost him more than he wanted to lose.

“Shit! I suck at relationships.” Gerard fell back on the bed, almost making Frank bounce with the force. “This has to work. It just has to!”

Frank now saw an opportunity. He seized it, with a silent prayer that Gerard would refuse. “Perhaps you were right, Gee. Too much bad juju. Can we ever clear the slate enough for you to trust me? I think that it might be better for you to…”

Before Frank could finish, Gerard was sat back up, making to clasp Frank’s hands in his. 

“No!” Gerard squeaked. “No, that’s not what’s best for me. It’s more that, I struggle…”

“To find a way to trust me. Your mind’s always jumping to conclusions without stopping to think about whether they are justified or not,” Frank said sadly. He wanted to side with Gerard and fight for the relationship, but that could not be in Gerard’s best interest could it?

Why the fuck not fight?

Yeah, come on Frank, you actually love this guy.

Wait! This was new, the angel and demon agreeing with each other. However, Frank knew that they were wrong. Letting Gerard go was the most sensible decision for Gerard’s sake.

It was the right thing to suggest. It was. You gave him the option. You acted honourably for once. However, he said no – just like you wanted. Now fight for him. The angel in his head reasoned with Frank.

I agree with him. The demon joined the conversation. I mean how often do I do that? Think about it, Frank. He is right, even though it pains me to admit it. You got your wish, so stop being so goddamn wet and be YOU! Huh, the idiot even loves you, who would have guessed?

“But…I love you,” Gerard whispered. “I can’t walk away from the chance. Of course, I’m scared about the same old things you did to me in the past happening again. Truthfully, I don’t know much different than being treated like that. I want to know what it feels like to be loved. I’ve loved you too long to let this die, especially now that you’ve opened up about your feelings to me. It’s just gonna take me a while to stop being so jumpy.”

“If you’re really sure. I don’t know anything about this love stuff except this one thing: if 'us' is going to hurt you, I love you enough to do what’s right for you.”

“Please, Frank.” Gerard slipped off the bed so that he was kneeling in front of Frank, looking up at him all doe-eyed and pleading.

Frank allowed himself a smile. For once it was not a smirk that there was a cute guy on their knees in front of him. No, it was because he had a shot at this, like a proper shot, at a grown-up, respectful relationship with the man he loved. The man who had made see what a vile person he was. The man who had made Frank want to change to make them both happy.

“Yes, Gee. I want you happy and healthy. If that’s with me or without me, I’ll be ok with that. Tell me what else I can do? It doesn’t feel like the ground rules are putting your mind at ease. So, what will?” 

He hadn’t thought about that until it had come out of his mouth. The whole idea of ground rules was wrong. All they were was a tick-box list that Frank could adhere to in an attempt to salve both their consciences that Frank had changed. When in reality, Frank the manipulator could, with a bit of effort, adhere to them for show, regain Gerard’s trust, and then slip back into his old behaviours. Well, shit!

Gerard’s face was a picture of confusion. “What d’ya mean?”

“Look,” Frank said shuffling back on the bed until he was resting against the headboard, “get up off the floor. Come sit next to me and I’ll explain.”

Gerard clambered up onto the bed, then snuggled up into Frank’s side.

“You think that some magic list of things to do or not do which I have to tick off against for a few weeks will show you that I’ve changed. It won’t. You distrust me so much that almost every time I make a move that’s just my more dominant character coming out that I’m going to smack you around, even if I am abiding by the rules. Some part of you still believes that I will never be any other way around you than to abuse you.”

“Ok, I guess that kinda makes sense,” Gerard whispered, drawing in even closer to Frank as he draped an arm across Frank’s stomach and hooked one of his legs over Frank’s. “So, what do we do?”

“It’s still all really up to you. I am doing what I can to show you that the change is real. I’m sorta out of ideas other than…”

“Go, on,” Gerard encouraged as Frank paused. “I haven’t got any better ideas than the list, so shoot.”

“Well, why don’t we tear up the rules. I mean, formally agree that none of them apply anymore, not just the no sex rule. Let's try to go on a few dates. No expectations. Take things at a pace you’re happy with, keep off the liquor and see where it goes.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Something else was tugging at Frank. Something about the no booze thing. For him, he drank because he liked it. He could get carried away at times, which never ended well for those around him, but he did not need alcohol. Gerard on the other hand did.

“Gee?” he asked softly. “Before, with the drinking, did you ever get help? You know, go to AA or a support group?”

Frank felt Gerard nod into his chest.

“Do you have like a support partner?”

“Yeah, but it’s been so long. I’m ashamed to get in contact with them again. Ya know, I’ve been drinking for so long again now when I’m supposed to have been clean and sober. I should have contacted them when I started drinking again.”

“Hey, look, I’m sure they’ll understand. They know what the addiction feels like, remember? Why not give them a call?” Frank knew that Gerard would need more than him and Mikey to support him through getting clean again. He hoped that whoever Gerard’s support partner was they would be able to provide him with the extra help he needed.

“Ok, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Gerard mumbled.

Frank placed his finger under Gerard’s chin to bring his head up, then Frank inclined his head towards Gerard and kissed him. Nothing more, just a soft, sweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh come one, did you really expect me to give in that fast. Maybe next time?
> 
> Seriously though, this story is drawing to a swift conclusion from here. One final chapter and an epilogue to go. So am I going to be the nice person or the villain with my ending? Answers in the comments if you'd like!
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect, I usually tweet when I post something on here.


	22. *Chapter 21 – You are my Sunshine*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see where Frank and Gerard's relationship has got to one month later. Did tearing up the rules, playing it by ear at Gerard's pace work for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Sorry this is late. The eagle eyed among you may have noticed that the total number of chapters has increased. Why? Well, this chapter became so long, that I decided to split it when I changed point of view. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I think I got most of the errors and typos in this. If some squeaked through, apologies.

One month later  
Gerard tossed his bag into the trunk of Frank’s car.

“You gonna tell me where we’re going?” he asked as he got into the passenger side and reached for the seatbelt.

“Nope!” Frank grinned from ear to ear as he slipped the car into drive then pulled away from the curb.

“At least give me some clue. Like maybe how long we’re gonna be on the road, please?” 

“Still a no,” Frank chuckled. “I guess what you’re really asking is how many coffee stops, huh?”

Gerard huffed, pretending to be slightly put out. “It’s your fault I’m undercaffeinated, you know? I mean it’s like six thirty on a Saturday morning. I had to pack last night so that I had time to make myself a cup of a crappy instant before you arrived.”

“Quit whining and find something to listen to. It’s not my fault you replaced all the blood in your system with coffee and need regular caffeine transfusions to stay alive, is it?”

Gerard did not bother to reply. Instead, he reached out to the car’s stereo. He flicked through the pre-sets on the FM button until he found a radio station playing a song that he thought was appropriate. He shot a quick look at Frank to gauge his reaction.

“Ok, maybe I should have qualified that statement. Cheesy 80’s rock was not quite what I had in mind.”

“But, it’s Bon Jovi. I mean, here we are heading down the Turnpike. Soon we’ll be able to see the cranes from the docks, and we’re heading down towards the Shore right now, and…”

“You thought that Living on a Prayer was the right tone for this journey?” Frank questioned, a slightly serious edge to his voice.

“Well, you got to admit it is kind of ironic...”

Frank swatted Gerard’s thigh lightly before changing the channel himself and ending up on some dreary talk show about how the Governor was being a complete dick about something, again.

“Ooh, Starbucks. What I would give for a triple shot Americano right now.” Gerard gestured at the signage. “It’s ‘drive-thru’ too – you won’t have to stop for too long. My treat.”

Two coffees and a shared vegan bagel later, they were back on the road. Frank was glad to have thrown Gerard off the scent. No, he wasn’t taking him to the Jersey Shore. Yeah, there was probably something going on at the Stone Pony that he would have wanted to be a part of, but this weekend was about Gerard.

“Oh,” Gerard piped up as Frank did not head down onto the Garden State Parkway as he had expected. “So, what’s on at Camden then?” The road signs were telling him that they were now heading more in the general direction of the border with Pennsylvania than the Shore.

“Wrong, not taking you there. Well, not today, and certainly not at this time in the morning.”

“Of course not, YOU would have VIP access and not have to queue up like the rest of us mere mortals if we're going to see some band!” Gerard ran a hand through his red locks, totally pleased with himself that he had had a shower while the kettle was boiling and there was not an ounce of grease left in it.

Frank nodded his head, allowing himself a smug smile. Gerard still did not have a clue. Frank was taking an extremely circuitous route, but he wanted to have some fun watching Gerard while he tried to figure out the location of their weekend away.

Gerard fiddled with the car’s Bluetooth, pairing his phone with it. 

“As my choice in radio stations was considered inappropriate, and you couldn’t find anything better. I think this might be the safest bet.”

Frank would have liked to agree, but he was more a fan of punk and the occasional burst of classic rock or metal than Brit-pop. He opted for saying nothing, just listened to the unique sound of Gerard’s voice as he sang along to Pulp and Suede. Frank wondered if this was something about Gerard he had forgotten or never bothered to find out about. Frank pondered whether if he had known Gerard in his band days he would have been wise enough to ask Gerard to front the band. Could Gerard’s voice have been one of the things the band lacked? He concluded that if he had ever been out from under the influence of beer or weed long enough to have had such a clear, career-minded thought, his ego would never have allowed it. 

Singing had distracted Gerard from taking too much notice of the route when Frank had suddenly come off onto a county road and begun heading cross country. It was only when they re-emerged out of the realm of villages and townships and into the outskirts of a larger town or city, that Gerard suddenly became aware again.

“Princeton. What the hell is in Princeton, apart from the university?” Gerard asked as he read the next signpost.

“Brunch.” Frank quipped. “Also, according to one of the guys at work that went here - no don’t ask why he’s working at the same shitty company I am – the University Art Museum has some great collections, especially the photography and the contemporary/modern galleries. Thought we could indulge both of us.”

“Both?”

Frank realised much like Gerard’s secret singing voice, his love of photography (amateurish though it might have been) had not featured in their past. “Yup. I used to really love to play around with cameras when I was younger. Haven’t done much with it recently though.”

“I’ll have to remember that one. So, after brunch and staring at pictures, anything else planned?”

A playful smile teased the corner of Gerard’s lips. His hazel eyes twinkled. Frank thought he saw mischief in them. Maybe it was a glimmer of anticipation, dreams of a subject that the two of them could connect around as equals. A shared interest that was deeper than their previous relationship of physicality and abuse. 

Frank toyed with the idea of not divulging the rest of the day’s activities. He decided against it. Whatever it was that he was reading on Gerard’s face could only mean good omens for continuing to build trust and closeness. Frank was not going to risk losing that.

“Once you’re bored with the art stuff, we can make our way down to this really cute little place on the Delaware and Raritan canal trail. It’s got a reputation for being a bit bohemian, which I thought you’d like. The town on the Penn side has got a similar reputation. It would be nice to be by a pretty piece of water with ducks and trees and shit, not massive cruise liners, tankers and skyscrapers for once.” Frank would have knocked on wood, if there was any nearby, that he had pitched this right.

“Never picked you for a sappy romantic,” Gerard teased. “Sounds kind of idyllic.”

Relief swept over Frank as he saw that Gerard liked what he had chosen.

“When we get to Lambertville, we can book into the hotel, have a look around for a couple of hours. Then I’ve got us a reservation for dinner at this cute little restaurant which faces out onto the water; they light it up at night so that you can still enjoy the views in the dark. After dinner, we’re going to the movies.”

Gerard gave him a look that said: movies, somewhere that sounds that hippyish?

“Yes, the movies. Hambone told me about a cinema there which shows independent and arthouse movies. I checked it out, and they’re doing a late night showing of Metropolis tonight – I guessed you might like the visuals and the messages in it.”  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours, and a short nap later, satiated on both culture and nature, the pair walked hand in hand down along the water's edge until they came to the bridge which divided New Jersey from Pennsylvania.

“I want to take a photo,” Gerard said dragging Frank up the steps from the canal-side.

“Of what?” Frank asked cautiously, never one to like having his photograph taken.

“Us, silly. It’s the ideal background. The way that the sun is just dipping down below the horizon, the last few rays still shimmering on the ripples in the water, the stones of the bridge desperately in need of repair, and the wildness of the foliage on the other side – it all reflects us. Perhaps…” Gerard turned his head to look at the ‘Welcome’ sign for the town on the Pennsylvania side, “we need that in the background too – it’s the perfect metaphor for us.” 

The sign read: “Welcome to New Hope.”

Frank complied, posing for the shot without complaint. Although, he was slightly wary of this ending up on social media and raising questions from friends that neither wanted to answer just yet.

Satisfied that he had the image he wanted in one take, Gerard let Frank lead him to the restaurant he had booked.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Can I get you started on something to drink while you look at the menu?”

“Some sparkling water, please. Gee?”

Frank noticed Gerard’s hesitation and the sweep of his eyes around the room to all the other couples sharing their wine, beer or cocktails.

“Could you make that a large bottle for the table, thanks.” Gerard smiled at their server. 

Frank detected a hint of something in Gerard’s voice. He stretched his hand across the table to find Gerard’s, then gave it an ‘I’m proud of you for ordering water when you want alcohol’ squeeze. 

Service was surprisingly swift for a place so far out of any urban sprawl. Within a reasonable amount of time after ordering for them to be assured that the food was freshly prepared, Frank and Gerard had their meals in front of them. Gerard was pushing his salad around his plate. He had even divided it up into smaller portions and picked out bits to eat by themselves. But he really did not have much of an appetite for food. There were no nerves. He was more comfortable around Frank than he had ever been. It was the stopping drinking thing. He had not realised quite how bad it had become. His stomach had started to shrink with how little he ate while he was drinking. Never one for eating much after he managed to lose his husky childhood figure, booze took away what remained of his appetite, and coming off the booze left him feeling pretty sick at the sight of food. He had already shared too much food with Frank for his liking that day, but he was trying.

He paused with a forkful of arugula halfway to his mouth as his phone chimed. Thankful for the interruption he opened the text immediately. It was from Mikey.

“Oh my god! Frank, look at that!” Gerard passed his phone across the table to Frank.

“They’re really doing it?”

“Apparently so. I would have thought it was too soon for the three of them, but hey, it’s not like Pete and Patrick haven’t lived together before.”

“I need photographic evidence.” Frank passed the phone back to Gerard. “I want to see this so-called romantic dinner for three at Patrick’s, and the moving boxes.”

“I wanna know how Pete’s wormed his way out of his lease. It feels like he’s only been in that studio a couple of months.”

Frank thought for a second before replying. “Knowing Pete, he hasn’t. He’s probably just done something really dodgy like subletting the apartment.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I suppose. Who’d be dumb enough to…”

“Jack and Alex?”

There was a momentary cooling in the air at the mention of Alex.

“Huh, possibly. Maybe Brendon,” Gerard mused, shrugging off his pang of jealousy about Alex. “You know his lease was up for renewal and he’s practically moved in with Ryan now, but I bet they want to keep the, um, you know, er ‘filming’ out of Ryan’s place.”

“Get Mikey to spill all the beans.”

Frank nodded towards the plate of hardly touched food, “Shall I get the cheque? Then we can take our time walking to the cinema.”  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Metropolis had been Metropolis. Frank would rather have seen Nosferatu if he was asked to choose something so old. The most entertaining part had been sitting at the back, Gerard trying his best to watch the film he liked while every few minutes his phone would vibrate with yet another picture or update from Mikey. At one point one of the other patrons had threatened to have them thrown out until Frank threw them one of his menacing ‘I’m about to go psycho’ looks. He was nowhere near that pissed off, the communications about Mikey, Pete and Patrick were too amusing for that to happen, but the effect of pulling that face was the same as ever.

They decided to walk back to the hotel, without the detour down to the restaurant; it was only ten minutes. Ten minutes spent laughing about everything that had happened and Frank sending texts to Pete, ragging him about his old and new partners. Ten minutes spent stealing featherlight kisses from the other’s lips in the lulls of conversation. Ten minutes of Gerard running his fingers along Frank’s hairline every time Frank paused to type his texts to Pete.

Then back at the hotel, there was the embrace in the elevator. The elevator doors were yet to close when Gerard had attached himself to Frank, enveloping him in his arms, burying his face in Frank’s neck and hooking his left leg around Frank’s. To say Frank was taken by surprise would be an understatement. It took all of Frank’s self-control not to respond by flipping things around and asserting his dominance. He held back. He was pleased that he had when, as suddenly as he had initiated it, Gerard detached himself, grinning shyly at Frank.

“I’m shattered. Can we just go straight to bed? I’m so not used to being this active on the weekend.”

“No problem, Gee. I think we’ve probably done enough for one day.” Frank inserted the key card and opened the door, holding it open for Gerard to enter first.

All the signals were there, Frank thought as he got ready for bed. There was no way that he could be misreading them. He had purposely not gone any further than kissing, hugging, and holding hands since they had agreed to tear up the rule book to go at the pace Gerard felt comfortable with. That was not to say that there had not been times when Frank would have loved to have done something, anything, sexual. He had, he congratulated himself, refrained from doing so. Not just with Gerard, with anyone. 

Now though here they were lying in bed, and the way that Gerard was nuzzling against Frank’s neck, letting out the softest little whimpers as he was as good as grinding on Frank’s leg could only mean he was ready, couldn’t it? Especially after his behaviour in the elevator. But ready for what? That was the question. However, Frank was not going to try to second guess. He would go with the flow, so to speak. The only clear limit he set for himself was that wherever this ended up, there could be no lingering taste of the past in how he treated his love.

‘His love’. Frank was slowly getting used to that idea. It was the truth, but after so many years of telling himself he did not under any circumstances do the L word, becoming comfortable with it would take some time.

Frank started out gently, caressing Gerard's face. Ghosting his lips over his skin. Trailing hands softly over his body. He was holding himself back. Slow, soft, gentle, loving, making sure that Gerard was comfortable and consenting every step of the way. Frank repeated that periodically to himself to avoid getting caught up in the moment and going too far or too hard.

“Please don’t treat me like a fragile china doll, “ Gerard grumbled. “I know you’re trying to make this different from any time before. I do appreciate the effort you’re making. But, honestly, can you just let yourself go? We both love it rough. It’s already so different because of the circumstances. Just fuck me already, Frank!”

A heartily relieved Frank did not need to be asked twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Things still going well for Frank and Gerard. Can I really end it on a high?
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter which, if you read the notes at the beginning you will know, is already written. I will try to post that for you on Friday. Fingers Crossed! :)
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect, I usually tweet when I post something on here.


	23. Chapter 22 – ‘Cause I feel safe in your arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, Sunday in Lambertville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies. Well this is on time as promised for once!
> 
> What happens next? Did Gerard or Frank get spooked again? Or are things going to finish well for them in this final chapter.
> 
> I think that I got all the errors and typos. If not, apologies.

*The next morning – Gerard’s PoV*  
The morning sunshine filtered its way around the curtains — the soft tendrils of light creating delicate patterns across Frank’s sleeping features. Gerard snuggled in closer to Frank, wrapping an arm around him. Gerard had never spent time watching Frank sleep. It had never been that kind of relationship. There had been many occasions when Frank had not bothered to or had made it almost impossible for Gerard to stay the night stay after Frank had got what he wanted. Then there had been the times that painkillers or tending to cuts and bruises were the most pressing thing for Gerard first thing in the morning. Now as Frank’s eyelids fluttered still in a deep sleep, and the tiniest little snores crept from between his lips, it was impossible to imagine the monster that Frank could be. Thankfully, in the weeks since they had decided to try again, that side of Frank had not surfaced. There was no doubting it had almost broken through when Frank had tried it on with him after Gerard had picked him up from the UCPD. That clouded things slightly, but even then, Frank had stopped before going too far, and the incident felt like it was longer ago than it actually was because of the way Frank had behaved since.

This whole weekend had been Frank’s idea. He had insisted on footing the bill for everything but those first road coffees. Gerard wanted to do something for him as a thank you. A way of saying that they now had a foundation of trust from which to build something. Frank had been right; there was no point in Gerard loving him if Gerard could not learn to trust him without making him jump through ridiculous hoops that someone as wily as Frank could easily adhere to long enough to look sincere. Since then, Gerard had set the limits as they went. Frank had learnt to adjust, not cook up some scheme to make it look good until he got his own way. Gerard had not found it easy to dictate terms. He was sure that the past month had been equally difficult for Frank. How could he not appreciate that and want to acknowledge it?

There was a coffee machine in the corner of the room. No doubt the coffee was going to be awful, but it would have caffeine in it. Gerard uncurled himself from Frank to set some coffee brewing. As he hated to stand there and watch the liquid drip agonisingly slowly into the jug, he decided on a shower while he waited. In an ideal world, Frank would have joined him in the shower, but he was still sleeping. 

“Oh, well, that would probably have been a disaster anyway,” he giggled when he saw the measly stream of water flowing from the shower head. Only one of them would have been able to be in the water at any time. Not the best way to share steamy, morning shower sex. He could always…No. Not today. He should probably use the time to think about what he could do for Frank, see if there was anything that they could do that day. Frank had indicated that he had nothing mapped out for the day other than to hang around Lambertville and New Hope, then make a slow return to joys of the New York skyline.

“Hell yeah!” Gerard let out a none too quiet exclamation as he recalled how the day before his mind had immediately thought that Frank would take him to see a band somewhere. Music was a part of Frank. What better way for Gerard to show Frank how he felt than take him to see a gig. Now all he had to do was find a suitable one.

“Coffee? Do I smell coffee?” Frank groaned his voice laced with morning raspiness.

“Well, of course! Want one? I made enough for two mugs.”

“Ughh, please. Actually, hold that. I want a shower first.”

Gerard took the liberty of making sure to watch a naked Frank pad across the room to the bathroom. It was a sight he thought he would never tire of. 

“Nothing at Webster, Irving, Gramercy or Bowery,” Gerard muttered at a volume that he expected the sound of the shower and the closed bathroom door would drown out. “Definitely not going to Eagle Hall or Maxwell’s.” It was too soon to rake up the memories of those places for them both. Gerard flicked onto google maps to work out timings and distance to other New Jersey well-known music venues. “Not Starland either. Ok, that’s a possible; but that’s a bitch of a journey.” Then inspiration struck again. “Philly. What’s on in Philly. Don’t think I’ve ever done more than pass through.” With that, Gerard dove back into the search engine for shows in Philadelphia. He struck gold. All he had to do was check that tickets were still available, and they were all set.

Like every good partner, Gerard had that mug of coffee ready and waiting to hand to Frank when he came back into the main room. If asked he would swear on whatever book, person, thing or deity Frank wanted that he had not slurped a couple of mouthfuls before giving it to him. It was complete bullshit. Of course, he had.

Frank did not buy Gerard’s feigned innocence either. He quirked an eyebrow at Gerard having observed the level of liquid in the mug. “Really? What you’re actually saying is that there was only enough for one full mug and about two-thirds of another?”

“Scout’s honour!”

“I highly doubt you were a scout. Shall I check with Mikey next time I see him?”

“It’s the god’s honest truth.” Gerard put his hand over his heart to emphasise the point. “How about I go see if I can rustle us up another couple of coffees while you get dressed and load the car? Ones that actually taste like coffee.” Although a second coffee was high up on Gerard’s priorities, the real reason for going to get coffee was to try and buy those tickets online. 

“Deal.”

Gerard looked like the cat that got the cream when he and Frank met in the hotel lobby half an hour later. He could barely contain himself. He wanted to blurt the whole thing out right there and then, but he felt like he needed to find a more appropriate time to do it.

He managed to steer Frank away from going out for brunch immediately, suggesting that maybe they take their time to enjoy their coffees, go for a walk first. Gerard proposed that they could walk more around the town, explore the places that they had not got to the day before when they had become mesmerised with the curio shops on both the Jersey and Penn sides of the bridge and taken an extended walk along the canal. 

While they were exploring, Frank stopped dead in his tracks. A second-hand music shop, selling vinyl, CDs and sheet music. From the window display, the collection inside seemed like it would be eclectic. 

Inwardly Gerard shrieked with delight. This was perfect.

“Come on. You know you want to nose around in here.” Gerard dragged Frank in through the door. Not that the action required much force, Frank was more than eager to poke around and see what rare records he could find. It would have been too much of a longshot to expect to find anything musically relevant to frame the revelation of his plan to Frank, so Gerard did not bother. He let Frank have free reign, while he decided on the right words to announce the trip to Philadelphia. He had even convinced himself that he was prepared to share the drive home – some mean feat given he hated driving.

Eventually Frank concluded that there was nothing worth investing in. He told Gerard that there were a few he might have considered, but they were not in the greatest condition and certainly not at the inflated price being charged there. 

“So,” Gerard began once they were back outside, “I know you said that you had nothing scheduled for today. Well, I know that this is in the opposite direction of home, but it’s not that much further away. I was thinking; maybe we could go to Philly? I’ve never been there.”

“Ok, sure. Philly it is. Guess we should postpone food till we get there. That alright with you?”

“Yup. There is one more thing though. We will be staying there for the rest of the day.”

Frank narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“I bought us two tickets to Anti-Flag at the Foundry. Thought not only would it round off the weekend perfectly, but,” Gerard paused for maximum impact, “I wanted to do something special for you. I know things still aren’t perfect between us, but…”

Gerard never got to finish that sentence. Frank’s arms wrapped around his neck in a passionate embrace and his lips attached themselves to Gerard’s. Gerard kissed back with every ounce of love that he could muster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I can be nice to you after all! I think somewhere in the dim and distant past of this story I promised a happy ending, and I delivered on it. Just the epilogue to go where we see how all the relationships that have somehow made their way into this story have developed, not just Frank and Gerard. 
> 
> In a way I really can't believe it's almost over. I have bonded with some of these guys so much! Way more than I ever expected to when I thought I could try to expand my original one shot!
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect, I usually tweet when I post something on here.


	24. *Epilogue - I got a bulletproof heart, you got a hollow-point smile*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A catch-up on all the relationships in this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally it is here the epilogue and the happy ending I know everyone wanted. Enjoy!
> 
> I tried to get all the errors and typos in this. I apologise if I missed any.

So, here they all were, back together as a whole group for the first time in so many months. Not just all in one place, but at the venue where everyone who had been on the roller-coaster acknowledged that the ride had started. However, they were not the same people they had been on that fateful evening. Skeletons were now out of closets. New sides of people had come to the fore. Things once broken or teetering on the edge had been repaired. Relationships had found new depths, becoming redefined and stronger in the process. One couple had married. Nothing remained unchanged.

“Ray! Thought the shine would have come off that thing by now? How long’s it been?”

“Not long enough, dude.” Ray pulled Christa in closer to him, gently leaning into her upturned face. “Can’t see the shine ever coming off these rings.” His face still inclined to his wife, Ray held up their joined hands, flashing their wedding rings at Bob. “Need to find yourself someone, Bob. You’re missing out.”

“Nah, I’m content as I am. Not exactly my thing relationships, settling down and all that jazz.”

Ray pulled away from Christa as he laughed at his friend. “I wasn’t talking ‘till death do us part’ stuff, just someone special to share life with.”

“You have your normal, bro, and I have mine. Mine doesn’t include anyone else, except maybe my cat.”

Ray let the subject drop, allowing the three of them to sit in a comfortable silence, contemplating that dreaded word – NORMAL. What did that mean among this rag-tag group of close friends and hangers-on? Three pairs of eyes darted around the room momentarily pausing at the various locations where their group had dispersed to.

Rian was sat up at the bar, quietly drinking and conversing with the bartenders. Zack had seated himself at the sound desk, a perk of being known as a member of an up and coming local band who had recently been signed by an indie label. These two were probably the most normal of the others. They kept themselves to themselves, had never created a scene, and were not afraid to disentangle themselves from the group.

Jack and Alex had grabbed a high table to themselves, engrossed in each other and unaware of the rest of the world. No doubt discussing the next stop on their journey of sexual exploration, the details of which they shared with too much information to a select few people. Because of this oversharing, their occasional double dates with Ryan and Brendon were common knowledge.

That other pairing was huddled together at a nearby table. With the revelation of the double dates, the cat was well and truly out of the bag. The mystery of their relationship was no longer a secret. Those in the know assumed that Brendon and Ryan had closed ranks to scope out the bar, plotting Brendon’s next conquest who would, in turn, provide Ryan’s next voyeuristic thrill.

Over in a faraway corner, that they must have thought was out of view, sat Mikey, Pete and Patrick. Mikey had his head on Patrick’s shoulder. Pete had his arm draped around Patrick’s waist. Something about Pete being wedged between Mikey and Patrick looked right as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Arriving at this place had not been so easy. There had been some uncertainty, some reluctance, some jealousy and headbutting, but they were finding their way through it to make the relationship work. Pete loved both Mikey and Patrick. He never wanted to have to choose between them or be with one of them without the other. All three of them being in a relationship was the logical conclusion, once Mikey and Patrick had gotten over their initial disgust when Pete had first broached the subject. For Pete, having his two favourite people by his side had so far calmed his need to go looking elsewhere. However, now things had settled down; it was not just Pete that the arrangement was working for; all three looked like they had hit the jackpot.

“Erm, Bob? Seen Frank and Gee recently? I swear they were just next to Ryan and Bren.”

Bob glanced around the bar again. “Haven’t seen them for a while – not that I’m keeping tabs on them or anything!”

“No, none of us are” Ray rejoindered, a serious tone creeping into his voice despite the obvious sarcasm of his statement. While Frank’s past abuse of Gerard had never been openly acknowledged or confirmed, now that the two were back together almost everyone in the group had taken to keeping an eye out for Gerard, ready to confront Frank if they saw anything suspicious. So far, nothing had raised any doubts. Frank’s claim to have turned over a new leaf appeared legitimate.

Suddenly Christa elbowed Ray in the ribs and kicked Bob under the table, her other hand gesticulating to the giggling pair exiting the men’s restroom.

“Hey, lovebirds, over here!” As he yelled, ineffectually across the noisy room, Ray waved his hands to try and attract their attention. 

“Oi, Iero, get over here” Bob joined in, eager to get to be the first to take the piss out of Frank and Gerard for what had to have taken place in the restroom.

Eventually, right before Christa died of embarrassment, Bob and Ray’s antics caught Frank’s eye. Changing course, he ushered Gee through the bar’s other patrons towards them. Bob was not going to miss his opportunity.

“We know what you were doing” he teased in a deliberately childish voice.

“Do you now, Bryar? And, pray tell, what might that be?” Frank goaded.

“Playing pattycake, of course!”

“Oh, yes. That’s right we were playing pattycake, weren’t we, Gee?”

“Wow, Bob, however did you guess?”

“Just psychic” Bob shrugged.

“Well, why wouldn’t I want to play games with the greatest piece of ass in this room. No offence, Christa. I mean, he’s not just easy on the eye, but intelligent, cultured, talented with his hands in more ways than one, can sing like an angel….”

“Shush, Frank, you’re embarrassing me,” Gerard squeaked, giving Frank a playful swat.

“Can’t play any instruments or cook for shit, but I guess a guy can’t have it all in one package.” With that, he reached up to place the most gentle and affectionate kiss on Gerard’s cheek. There was a distinctly soft look to his face. Everything about the way he stood beside Gerard, was gushing about him, the way he looked at him, suggested that this was no longer a game to Frank. 

There was a new confidence about Gerard too. In place of the nervous Gerard always on tenterhooks, as if dreading making a wrong move with Frank, there was genuine ease and playfulness that no one had ever seen in him before when with Frank. 

Observing the two of them together tonight, and the few other times that they had seen them since Frank and Gerard officially announced they were together, there was a new balance or harmony between them. Even if suspicions were still running high that neither old dog had truly learnt their supposed new tricks, Bob and Ray were hopeful that for once things were going to turn out well for their friends.

As for Frank and Gerard, well, they had thrown everything into this, laying the past to rest even if the memories could not be forgotten. The police had arrested Bert and the rest of his cronies in the end through one the dumbass actions of one of the more junior members, not through the information Mikey and Gerard had given them. With a little internal persuasion from James Dewees, the detectives on the case had agreed to keep the Way brothers entirely out of the whole matter. So, without the spectre of Gerard’s association with McCracken hanging over their heads either, Frank and Gerard were optimistic about this new beginning of their relationship and discovering life together. Frank even had one major surprise up his sleeve for Gerard, a highly romantic one at that if things worked out well. He was, though, still trying to figure out whether it was his heart that had not been bulletproof or whether Gerard really did have a hollow-point smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done. Honestly I was not sure at times that I would finish it, but I have and that, in my book at least, is a big achievement. 
> 
> A massive thank you to everyone who has been along on this journey, whether you started out on at from the start or joined part way through. I appreciate each and every one of you.
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect, I usually tweet when I post something on here.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter - just note smut is really challenging for me, but don't let that stop you requesting it.


End file.
